tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31821558808261739632024-02-07T21:47:27.206-08:00Tribal WifeTribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.comBlogger328125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-54708934587629365442021-10-10T07:22:00.000-07:002021-10-10T07:22:23.094-07:00(Purity) Culture Wars<div><br /></div> My back was aching after only a few minutes of sitting on a narrow log just a couple of inches off the dirt. It had already been a long day and I was less than enthusiastic about sitting there for hours in the rainy, mosquito filled night. I was still learning language, so my overtired brain was in even more pain than my back as I listened to one of ladies lead a Bible study for the rest of the women (young and old) in our village. <div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjToElv65G1d66dB6WEJtcFeVgdUL6mobwPibarAnmie7HFRDynRYDzLiBnvSkzSkmoRdqpSmbrsom_4PDx1QbEh0BXSI9GEaaNyWyQwuVsQRpeLtoCOmR_VUy6Qdp8V0ouljLBj-VK34w/s960/11873773_10153055467081444_837128138959538969_n.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjToElv65G1d66dB6WEJtcFeVgdUL6mobwPibarAnmie7HFRDynRYDzLiBnvSkzSkmoRdqpSmbrsom_4PDx1QbEh0BXSI9GEaaNyWyQwuVsQRpeLtoCOmR_VUy6Qdp8V0ouljLBj-VK34w/w400-h300/11873773_10153055467081444_837128138959538969_n.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Just hanging out with ladies after church. Notice everyone in skirts NOT shorts. </i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /><div><br /></div><div> I perked up, however, when she started discussing the topic of modesty. She was telling the young ladies how inappropriate it was for the men to see their shorts. Hewa ladies all wore skirts and most wore long basketball style shorts underneath those skirts, but every now then a skirt would accidentally snag on something and make a tear, and then someone could see the shorts underneath. This was apparently very VERY inappropriate and needed to be reprimanded strongly. Because modesty (or lack there of) looks so completely different in my culture, my assumption was that this was the purpose of the shorts. You know so if there is a tear in the skirt you don't see skin. And well, you know what they say when you assume... (wink, wink).
I listened to this lecture intently trying to take note of new words or phrases that I needed to ask about later, but I kept getting distracted by the idea that showing a sliver of long loose-fitting basketball shorts was inappropriate. It was especially difficult when at least three ladies in the meeting were sitting completely topless.
But their shorts weren't showing, so they were good! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> It made me realize then and there that modest dress was heavily influenced by cultural norms and values. That becomes very tricky when you want to teach the principle Biblicaly, rather than on your personal values or cultural influences. I can't very well tell these ladies that they are being ridiculous and that seeing the gigantic shorts underneath a skirt isn't a sin. And I certainly couldn't tell them that they needed to put shirts on for Heaven's sake! The next step is to turn to the Bible and find out what exactly the scripture says about modesty and apply the principles to the jungle lady's context. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The problem, however, is that the verses that we often reference in the Bible when teaching on modesty (1 Tim. 2:9 and 1 Peter 3:2) are actually entreating the women of the church not to flaunt their <b><i>material </i></b>wealth which is a lesson largely ignored in the Western church, and one I had certainly never heard preached, but was actually perfect for the context I was in at the time. Thankfully many veteran missionaries made sure to let us know that we needed to wear about 3 outfits total around our friends, only get new things when the others were REALLY shabby or at least give away the old to someone in the village if you break out something new. </div><div><br /></div><div> Fast forward to 2020 where I'm spending a lot of time indoors and isolated from real people, but am following a much larger discussion on modesty and purity in the church on social media. I was bombarded by people (mostly women) attacking the "purity culture" of the 1990s and hearing anger in what was taught- especially in regards to modest dress. The biggest issue I saw was that the idea that girls were asked to dress appropriately so as not to make their Christian brothers "stumble" is offensive and sexist and that boys should be taught to take responsibility for their own choices and sin rather than "blaming" girls for what they were wearing.
Okay. Sure. If this is EXACTLY what was taught at your church then that's messed up and I am truly sorry. And I know abuse and manipulation happens in many Christian contexts, so I am not discounting that at all. But it seems like this has lead people to believe that women should and can dress anyway they want and how the men respond to that is entirely up to them. The pendulum has swung in the opposite direction. And I just want to be clear that I'm not here to be the clothes police. As mentioned above, that conversation is definitely going to be subjective to culture. My issue is with the <b><i>attitude</i></b> that we are teaching to girls with this huge swing. The "I am not my brother's keeper attitude" is probably <b>NOT</b> the one we should be modeling since...you know...that came from the world's first murderer. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div> I also feel like I need to point out that was a youth group kid. I was at church every time the doors were opened and went to every large youth event offered in the Southeast (which was a lot) and this was not the message I heard. Sure, I did hear that my clothing choices could make a brother stumble and I should be mindful of that, but I also heard the boys addressed and taught how to take responsibility for their lust with the "bouncing eyes" techniques, etc. I never once felt like I was the target of oppression or that the responsibility of lusty boys rested solely on my shoulders (covered shoulders, of course). </div><div><br /></div><div> I do believe that girls should be taught first and foremost that their relationship with the Lord is what should influence their clothing choices and they should consider what brings glory to Him in all they do including building their wardrobe. But denying ourselves and considering others are <b>CENTRAL</b> aspects of walking with Jesus and among the chief principles that he taught His followers.
<span style="background-color: white;">And I can tell you right now, that if you disagree with asking a girl to "consider her brothers" then you are disagreeing with the Bible. The <span style="color: red;">RED LETTERS</span> in the Bible, in fact, because with Jesus' own mouth and voice, He told His followers over and over again to <b>PUT OTHERS ABOVE YOURSELF</b>. </span>This has nothing to do with patriarchy or oppression or feminism. It has nothing to do with the fact that a girl has to consider a boy's feelings when she dresses because she is somehow inferior. It has everything to do with siblings, co-heirs of the kingdom who look out for one another, putting the other first, looking out for the interest of the other. </div><div><br /></div><div> In fact, girls, if we want to be the spiritual equal of men then let's look to what Jesus taught the twelve men closest to him: </div><div><br /></div><div>
<i>"But Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers in this world lord it over their people, and officials flaunt their authority over those under them. But among you it will be different. Whoever wants to be a leader among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you must become your slave. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Matthew 20:25-28</i> </div><div><br /></div><div> And: </div><div><br /></div><div>
<i>"When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them." John 13:12-17</i> </div><div><br /></div><div> And I could make this post super long if I wanted to reference all the times Paul brought up this subject of preferring others, but let's focus simply on Romans 14 which is where the idea of the "stumbling block" comes from. Paul is mostly talking about the freedoms we have in Christ and how we should use those freedoms with discretion, always taking into account our fellow believers. He is specifically referencing forbidden foods like foods sacrificed to idols, but the principle is the same. Don't allow your freedoms to bring harm to someone else. That is not what they were intended for. I love how Paul puts the emphasis on the importance of <b>PEOPLE</b> and not actions or things, so it's easy for us to apply this to many different situations today. In verses 15 and 16 he says, </div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>If your brother or sister is distressed because of what you eat, you are no longer acting in love. <b>Do not by your eating destroy someone for whom Christ died.</b> Therefore do not let what you know is good be spoken of as evil. For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit</i>."</div><div><br /></div><div> Sister, do not let how you dress destroy someone for whom Christ died. Do not let your body which is holy, precious, honorable, and built for serice to God and not the pleasure of man be spoken of as evil. The Kingdom of God is not about all these rules, this list of <span style="background-color: white;"><span>do's</span> </span>and don'ts... it is about loving each other. Dying to ourselves and and living in love for God and for others.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1E3WfzVg8h1vVLIaZ5lkcTF5Z5GODN1_yJjddh-csZZPv6zLkikrsDVMZ41jftawkcQ1awNeof4-b3AOCdW5SmnIM6PFxyrv5ry9whNssYGB9PJTIvBdftigKSGlR_4oQcj_ZXIZ6Tu8/s750/IMG_7484.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="750" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1E3WfzVg8h1vVLIaZ5lkcTF5Z5GODN1_yJjddh-csZZPv6zLkikrsDVMZ41jftawkcQ1awNeof4-b3AOCdW5SmnIM6PFxyrv5ry9whNssYGB9PJTIvBdftigKSGlR_4oQcj_ZXIZ6Tu8/s320/IMG_7484.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div> Let's take the post above for example. Yes, Jesus is telling men to take responsibility for their own lusts. But ladies, let's take into account that in Jesus' day women were wearing long flowing robes and covered heads. They weren't wearing crop tops and booty shorts. Let's think for just a moment though, about this command from Jesus and just imagine that He is being literal for a second. Imagine you are walking down the street with your assets on display and every man you pass starts stabbing himself in the eyeballs. I bet the desire to dress immodestly will be squashed pretty quickly. </div><div><br /></div><div> Jesus is showing us through an extreme visual image (common in Rabbinic style teaching) how serious sin is, specifically the sin of lust. But the call is not just for the men. Ladies these are your brothers, sons, boyfriends, future husbands, current husbands. If what we are doing is causing pain equivalent to gouging out eyeballs and being permanently disabled, then our hearts desire should be to do whatever we can to help them avoid that pain, much less be the cause of it. </div><div><br /></div><div> Our world, our culture, pushes nothing but self. Self-love. Self-care. Selfie. The Gospel pushes another agenda. The agenda of Self-denial. Of <b>DYING</b> to self. Of living for another. Even if that other person isn't "worthy." Remember sisters, we were not and are not worthy of the sacrifice that Christ made on our behalf. So even if the men are not worthy, even if they are not taking responsibility for themselves, your call is the same. Honor Christ with your body and love your neighbor as yourself. Be the <i><b>opposite</b></i> of Cain, the murderer. Be the life-giver. Be your brother's keeper. <br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-77964610739603587442020-07-06T11:58:00.000-07:002020-07-06T14:36:32.265-07:00The New NormalDrip...<br />
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Drip...<br />
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Drip...<br />
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I sat in our crudely built Hewa church building one Sunday morning going nuts because I couldn't figure out what was leaking or where it was leaking from. It wasn't currently raining, though it was the RAIN FOREST so it had probably rained at least 5 five minutes ago. It had to be coming from the roof, right? I mean I could see holes from the old tin that had been "repurposed" as the church roof. But I could only see sunlight streaming through those holes, no leaking or dripping.Then...<br />
<br />
S P L A S H<br />
<br />
The drip had now become a splash on my leg. I made the rookie mistake of looking down to see what exactly had splashed on my leg when the next <br />
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S P L A S H<br />
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landed on my face. I wiped my cheek with my hand and turned towards the direction of the splash and quickly discovered the source of the leak. It was definitely a leak. Just not a WATER leak.<br />
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You see we sit very close to each other and very close to the dirt floor in Hewa church and my very close neighbor just happened to be a new mother.<br />
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A new mother whose baby was asleep.<br />
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A new mother whose baby was asleep, but whose body said it was actually time for baby to eat.<br />
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A new mother in a remote jungle setting who has never seen or heard of nursing pads.<br />
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So the leak that had been dripping and splashing on me for the last 30 minutes was her breast milk dripping through her shirt, making a small puddle on her skirt, then slowly dripping through the skirt onto the ground beneath her and next to me.<br />
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"Oh, so that's what that dripping is, " was my response, and having discovered the source of the leak went on listening to the sermon without another thought.<br />
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I think I officially became a missionary that day. I didn't get freaked out or grossed out. I didn't go home and wash my face or leg. It wasn't a big deal to me. I was used to all manner of bodily fluids ending up on me at church, and of all the bodily fluid possibilities in that small building, breast milk was definitely one of the better options.<br />
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This was my new normal.<br />
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It just sort of happened. Gradually. Each day the strange became a little more familiar, the new became a little more customary, and the gross became a little less...well...gross.<br />
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Sure there are some things that you absolutely have to work at to fit in to a totally new culture and people group, but some things just come by living day by day alongside people as their normal practices and activities just rub off on you or splash off onto you as in this case.<br />
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But if you'd have asked me before we moved to Papua New Guinea, if I would have just been cool with some lady's breast milk splattering on my leg and face then I'm sure I would have told you, "No! Ew! Gross!" I never would have imagined that this would become part of the my new normal in tribal life, yet there I was Christened into a new life of community and extreme poverty and bodily fluids.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTus7KhP4rC4X-YTPf_lRL-L3xclQ_N6bRDJduCAGadNxePbldR5bU54zFiE1Mgdyu2L7Yji2KX-vzf3CtxdvkT1BIu8SG70gdW5ZK3R2wnBUxfVma83wb-xwk8cNkk3RuZYyQG0x6ekc/s1600/66597892_10104583981755876_4008300116145340416_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTus7KhP4rC4X-YTPf_lRL-L3xclQ_N6bRDJduCAGadNxePbldR5bU54zFiE1Mgdyu2L7Yji2KX-vzf3CtxdvkT1BIu8SG70gdW5ZK3R2wnBUxfVma83wb-xwk8cNkk3RuZYyQG0x6ekc/s400/66597892_10104583981755876_4008300116145340416_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>None of these pictures are of the day or mother in the story. They are just here to show you how close we sit and to help you picture how this incident may have occurred.</i></td></tr>
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I am yet again stepping into a new and strange phase of life. A phase that if you'd have asked me 15 years ago if I'd ever be entering I would have told you, "No! Ew! Gross!"I never would have imagined my life NOT on the mission field or at least not serving in some way Stateside. It was never part of the plan. I was this one person who would only, could only do this one thing.<br />
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The end of this month will be the end of our time with Ethnos360 (New Tribes Mission). And I feel like I'm hanging on the edge of cliff holding onto a rope where all but one strand has frayed and broken. I know I need to let go. I know that "cliff" is really just a short hop down, but it doesn't FEEL that way. <br />
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It feels strange and wrong. It feels like grief.<br />
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I feel guilty even calling it "grief" when I have watched friends and loved ones go through horrific tragedies and true GRIEF, but I just don't know what else to call it.<br />
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It's still a loss. Loss of a life style and dream and all the time, effort, energy, and money that we (and most of you) have poured into for the last 15 years.<br />
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It's still starting over...<br />
<br />
At almost 40 <face emoji="" palm=""> </face><br />
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And it is way scarier than going ever was.<br />
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It's still me crying almost everyday even when I really don't know what I'm crying about. It's like my body allocated a certain amount of tears for PNG and it WILL spend them no matter what. No matter how inappropriate the time and place. (<i>Sorry to the Barista in the Starbucks drive-thru. The line was long and when I ordered my coffee I was fine, but by the time I pulled up, the tears were flowing and there was nothing I could do to stop them)</i>. Apparently this not feeling normal when repatriating IS actually normal. So normal that they even have a phrase for it- Reverse Culture Shock. Only this is harder because people don't expect you to have culture shock. YOU GREW UP IN THIS CULTURE FOR GOODNESS SAKE! But there are a lot things that I still don't know how to do as an American. I've never been a mom to teenagers in America. I've only had very little practice with my kids in school in America and it was very weird and intimidating and we just sort of got through it rather than really engaged in school culture and community. <br />
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It also doesn't help that the whole world is upside down right now, and everyone is searching for their new normal.<br />
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I will say, though, that the scripture, "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted" (Psalm 34:18) has been so true during this phase. Yes, I am brokenhearted, and while he is not taking the hurt away, He has been so faithful to stay close, to allow me to feel His presence, and to bless me with special things that I certainly don't deserve <i>(like this dog pictured below that I swear the Lord designed and created exactly for me). </i>He has given me a loving and understanding husband and He is loving my kids and helping them with their losses as well.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Please resist trying to count my chins in this picture</i></td></tr>
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When I began to realize that this was happening I started reading all kinds of books about suffering, the loss of dreams, and life not turning out the way we hoped or planned. They were all very helpful. The most helpful was Shattered Dreams by Larry Crabb if you're looking for something in the sad, lonely, depressed genre. (But seriously very good book with sound Godly advice).<br />
<br />
Anyway even with all that I know the Lord just kept reminding me of what Elisabeth Elliot wrote after she lost her husband on the mission field. "Just do the next thing." The Lord keeps putting those "next things" in my path and I just have to do them. He put a small Christian school where I could teach and the girls could attend in our my path, so I submitted my resume. I got a job and the girls are excited to not have to home school (I'm not taking it personally or anything) and we feel like it is a great Christian environment that will help us all transition a little easier.<br />
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The Lord also put a house in our path that belonged to John Michael's grandparents. His family very generously made it affordable to us, so we now have a roof over our heads. It is an older house that needs some updating, but maybe the fact that it doesn't have central air and heat or a dishwasher is the Lord's way of keeping me from going soft in America. *chuckle chuckle*<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkO_agpW7A1BkWlsCJPYC5tmoHjYdC6VKlT6opfSQKASk3S3vCVBxQ25T04W-A-MOVQAxoL9pK_N_qrM0dOYNsOI8Eefbl7otLqti6T4psKhvKsHuq0AWVgJtkE8SnwCr4wFhDV_So7M/s1600/IMG_5147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkO_agpW7A1BkWlsCJPYC5tmoHjYdC6VKlT6opfSQKASk3S3vCVBxQ25T04W-A-MOVQAxoL9pK_N_qrM0dOYNsOI8Eefbl7otLqti6T4psKhvKsHuq0AWVgJtkE8SnwCr4wFhDV_So7M/s400/IMG_5147.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Our house</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
John Michael is still looking for a permanent job, but right now he is working for a friend in construction and is enjoying working with his hands. We are praying that he will find something soon that will provide our family with insurance, since you know the main reason we are home is to try to get my health under control, and it is kinda hard to see doctors without insurance. *nervous chuckle*<br />
<br />
So as I take the next steps on this path that the Lord lays out, hopefully things will start to feel more normal and maybe even in a year or two I'll be in a restaurant or public place and some stranger's breast milk will splash on me and maybe I will be so comfortable in my new American life that I will freak out, gag, immediately rush home to shower, and burn all the clothes I was wearing.<br />
<br />
One can only hope. <br />
<br />
<br />
<span id="goog_1873931717"></span><span id="goog_1873931718"></span>Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-40678365325396483582020-05-18T17:36:00.000-07:002020-05-18T17:37:28.893-07:00Update Letter<i>**I realize I haven't posted in a really long time and there is a lot to catch up on. To be fair I did warn you that once I started teaching I would probably never blog again. I'm still not really "blogging" because I am just going to post our most recent update letter here. I'm not in a place to emotionally or mentally where I can write out all my uncensored thoughts and feelings about all that is happening like I normally do here, because honestly those thoughts and feelings seems to change by the hour. So anyway, I'll just put this here for informational purposes only..</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Many of you have followed the intense journey we have been
on over the last month through email and Facebook, so you know that the last 30
plus days have been a whirlwind of events and emotions that in some ways seem
indescribable. Somehow, I am going to try to describe them here, and share some
news about some big changes happening for our family and the Hewa ministry. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As most of you know, I (Jessi) have been dealing with some
significant health issues over the last few years that have had us traveling back
and forth from PNG, Australia, to the U.S. to try to find answers and relief.
We spent a year in the U.S. in 2018 to try to find solutions to the various
things going on with my health. It was a difficult year for us as most of those
“solutions” could not happen as long as we lived overseas. We had a difficult
decision to make then: do we stay and treat my conditions or do we go back to
PNG until I can no longer function? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a lot of seeking the Lord’s direction in prayer and
weighing all of our options, we felt like we needed to go back to PNG to try to
finish the task we started with the Hewa ministry. We wanted to see a mature
church planted among the Hewa people, and we were very close to that conclusion
as elders and deacons had just been appointed in the church. We knew, however,
that those elders and deacons needed more teaching, guidance, and discipleship
before they were left on their own. We also knew that nothing I had was life
threatening, and could wait another year or two for treatment. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We spent the year on our mission’s largest center so we
could be close the medical clinic and doctors for when I had flare-ups. John
Michael continued lesson writing and discipleship with the people, and I was
able to teach fourth and fifth grade at the mission school. We spent the entire
year in prayer about our future in PNG, weighing what was going on with my
health with where the Hewa church had needs. We came to the conclusion in March
that our time in PNG would end in June at the close of the school year, and
when John Michael finished writing lessons for the Hewa church on the book of
James. The elders were doing a great job, and our co-workers also decided to
move out of the tribe permanently to let the church stand on its own two feet.
This is the natural progression of a tribal church plant, to work ourselves out
a job, and we knew that we had come to this point in the ministry. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spent early March discussing our
plans and decisions with our leadership teams in PNG and the U.S. and planned
on sending an email to all of our supporters and churches in April to let you
know that we would moving back to the U.S. in June.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, just like most of you, our lives were turned upside
down by the COVID-19 pandemic. All missionaries on the field with underlying
health issues were asked to leave the field by our leadership team and doctors
because borders were closing, and treating us would become more difficult and
dangerous. Although, we were devastated to have to leave our home and country
of service for the last nine years so soon and so quickly, we agreed with and
respected their decision. We packed up and sold everything as quickly as
possible, said the goodbyes that we could and desperately scrambled to get back
to the U.S. before all the surrounding countries that we would have to pass
through closed their borders. We purchased and then had to cancel a total of 4
different sets of tickets because borders and countries were closing very
rapidly without notice. It was devastating to us that we would not be able to
go back into the tribe to say goodbye to our Hewa brothers and sisters, but we
are praying that the Lord will allow us to go back one day to see them and
properly say goodbye. Our trip home was full of unknowns and rapid changes, and
we even had a very close call in the country of Singapore where we were told
that we would be turned over to immigration if we didn’t get on a flight before
the country closed its borders in the next few hours. We were so thankful to
the Lord for sending an airport employee who worked incredibly hard to make
sure we got on a flight to the U.S. just minutes before the deadline to be out
of the country. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We arrived home exhausted but thankful to be back in America
even though our luggage was still in Singapore with no way of knowing when they
would get it to us with all the cancelled flights and border closings. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, after only two days of arrival, John Michael began
showing symptoms of COVID-19 shortly followed by myself, his dad, and finally
his mom. Through all the chaos of trying to get home, we had no time to find
another place to quarantine, so we came to John Michael’s parents home where we
got sick, and then infected them as well. Most of us had what are considered
“mild” cases of the virus, but we still felt pretty bad for two weeks. His dad,
however, did have to be hospitalized with pneumonia. Thankfully, he never had
to be put on a ventilator, but stayed in a regular room on oxygen while he
received treatment for a week. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Currently we have recovered from the virus and are
continuing to shelter in place as much as we can just like the rest of the
country and most of the world. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Right now, our plan is to continue to stay on with Ethnos360
(NTM) until the month of July, so that John Michael can finish the James
lessons and email them to our area leadership who can put them into the hands
of the Hewa church elders. We ask and pray that you would continue to support
us as we make this transition so that these lessons can be finished for the
Hewa church. Our family will still depend on your support to get this done. Please
know that we are still passionate about missions, particularly reaching
unreached people groups and Bible translation for those without God’s Word in
their language. We are leaving with heavy hearts, but good standing with the
mission and feel like the Lord will always have us involved in His work even if
it is voluntary. Ethnos360 even offered us options to serve in ministries here
in the U.S. but for now feel like Mississippi is where the Lord wants us. We
have loved our time with Ethnos360 will continue to promote and encourage their
ministries around the world. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While we are continually looking back at all the Lord has
brought us through, and thanking Him for his protection and provision, I have
to admit that we are questioning and wondering why He would bring us to this
place of huge transition out of the life and ministry that we have be involved
in for over a decade at what seems like the worst possible time. To have us
completely start over, career-wise, while the world is shut down and most
people are not hiring is frightening at times. I have frequently asked the
Lord, “WHY?” over and over. But we have seen Him do incredible things in our
lives in what the world would consider impossible situations, so we are
clinging to the truth of His word and His track record of 100% faithfulness. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I apologize for the length of this update, but we wanted you
all to have as much information as possible going forward with us. Again, we ask
and pray that you would continue to support us through Ethnos360 through the
month of July, so that John Michael can finish his work of Bible lesson writing
for the Hewa church. After that time we will seek employment elsewhere,
although right now we have no idea where that will be or what we will do. We
desperately need your prayers for God to provide jobs for us in Mississippi
where we plan to live for the foreseeable future. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are no words to express how thankful we are as a
family to all of you who have prayed and given financially to us so faithfully
over the last nine years (13 for those of you who have been with us since our
time in East Asia). We most certainly would not have been able to do any of
this without your love, prayer, and support. We are praying for you all
constantly during these turbulent times, trusting that our Creator who holds
all things together (Colossians 1:17) will be faithful to us all through this
current crisis. </div>
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<br /></div>
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With all our love, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The George Family</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
JM, Jessi, Lucy, Mattie, and Mia</div>
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div.Section1
{page:Section1;}</style>Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-79319051217106284442019-08-03T23:21:00.000-07:002019-08-03T23:24:28.148-07:00Door Knobs, Dirt Floors, and (Not) Dying in AmericaOur family went into the tribe in early July. I told myself to post right away so I wouldn't forget anything. It's now early August and I have forgotten a lot of things, but I think it's better this way so you don't have to read a bunch of rambling nonsense and I can just talk about what stood out the most or what was most important about our trip <i>(<------ ----="" i="">these are things procrastinators say to make themselves feel better.) </------></i><br />
<br />
Also school starts in two days and I feel like as soon as I dive into the depths of elementary school teaching, I will forget I was ever a tribal missionary and that I ever had a blog to begin with, so I figured if I didn't write this now it would never happen.<br />
<br />
Anyway, we went into the tribe and it was cool.<br />
<br />
The end.<br />
<br />
Just kidding.<br />
<br />
As we flew into the Central Mountain range and saw the first glimpse of our village and airstrip, it took me back to the day we flew out as family in October of 2017. I was in a lot of pain. My pancreas was killing me, but I think my heart hurt even worse. I remember wondering if I would ever see these mountains again. I wondered if it was my last flight into this remote jungle. And although a small part of me rejoiced at that (the part that desperately hates flying) most of me was pretty sad and scared. I remember praying that we would get to come back, "even if it's just one more time Lord- just don't let this be the last time." He answered "Yes" on July 2nd and there was much rejoicing. For the girls and I, it was our first time back in a year and a half and we were all so excited to be "home."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBa-ZPuK82PxWpvw3ShG94XnzM4SowJOsP7wk65Ej8k2Kgh2UFNN_0K93K7U5MFkao_UPuH6DrLYmwFZXH9Ka-o98gX0AjdF2t3Tp1FnZOohPOLOtO-KUb8uAq4w3ET5zWRg791almcyA/s1600/IMG_3842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBa-ZPuK82PxWpvw3ShG94XnzM4SowJOsP7wk65Ej8k2Kgh2UFNN_0K93K7U5MFkao_UPuH6DrLYmwFZXH9Ka-o98gX0AjdF2t3Tp1FnZOohPOLOtO-KUb8uAq4w3ET5zWRg791almcyA/s400/IMG_3842.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dQ6Sgzdi0URIsz2OZ8lrQcGgyZsQLR3bsC0TQA3u4wWZpPDcNhq3OJhB2Es4Aair3cnb8hcYFLBZw5nV-1DAH3oGiaSi70fz5ndXTA8mxTTgWFrzK0F55FQieOMvys_T1JzVgK6Rqic/s1600/IMG_3844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dQ6Sgzdi0URIsz2OZ8lrQcGgyZsQLR3bsC0TQA3u4wWZpPDcNhq3OJhB2Es4Aair3cnb8hcYFLBZw5nV-1DAH3oGiaSi70fz5ndXTA8mxTTgWFrzK0F55FQieOMvys_T1JzVgK6Rqic/s400/IMG_3844.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First glimpse of our strip from the air.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I know that we don't technically live there anymore and that we will never live there full time again, but that house is ours and after all this time living in other people's houses it will always feel like our home even if we don't get to live in it.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2oDnvUKtkhZdx78xkHOQYiUaASRf2_yrRz2disLvMN1RAbmV79LLaDcBAeBdk8SI468skJkyZ0e8dzYPz92hWOWREfBfZ-dCAC3kvvsjzMJDWRDDGYW45bOIpv15oawUwiCeSa54abY/s1600/66720869_10104583949700116_4845527681816592384_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2oDnvUKtkhZdx78xkHOQYiUaASRf2_yrRz2disLvMN1RAbmV79LLaDcBAeBdk8SI468skJkyZ0e8dzYPz92hWOWREfBfZ-dCAC3kvvsjzMJDWRDDGYW45bOIpv15oawUwiCeSa54abY/s400/66720869_10104583949700116_4845527681816592384_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside our house</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We spent the next nine days cleaning (me), teaching (my husband), and having a lot of jungle fun (all of us). It was incredible to see all our friends again and even kind of nice to see the people that annoy* us. Nostalgia is funny that way.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaAuP-kfJliBe5J_hCvXjhulr8awkIpA8fEcUFw_lETki9exygzkIYIO2cwniEg5da06ykaDWZ-oSh6S4Gjf7lJBBAapfNPlq2m3CAwDhVdfU41A2vecLYR41Bb7e3a4A9mO0bHDeC0o4/s1600/IMG_3859.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaAuP-kfJliBe5J_hCvXjhulr8awkIpA8fEcUFw_lETki9exygzkIYIO2cwniEg5da06ykaDWZ-oSh6S4Gjf7lJBBAapfNPlq2m3CAwDhVdfU41A2vecLYR41Bb7e3a4A9mO0bHDeC0o4/s400/IMG_3859.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While cleaning, I found that ants had built nests in the walls. I had to unscrew our plywood walls and baseboard to spray and vacuum out ants and their disgusting baby larvae. Not all babies are cute. Some are horrifying. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Not living there full time actually had some perks and I had a great
time discovering them rather than being depressed about having to live
in town. The first and greatest was that for the first time ever. I.
WAS. NOT. HOMESCHOOLING. <br />
<br />
We have always done school in the tribe no matter the time of the year it was because breaks were reserved for when we had to fly out and didn't want to pay money to fly out all the homeschool books. We were always either trying to get ahead or trying to catch up. There were never any homeschool breaks in the tribe. We didn't do school on Christmas Day. That was our only break.<br />
<br />
So for the first time ever both the girls and I had our days free in the tribe. It was incredible. We hiked around and played in the river and visited with friends. I even got to attend all the Bible teaching sessions which has never happened before. E V E R. I felt like a real missionary.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWAPU71za9NYDwvrBQyQqJlMdQ2M-XyEAIfuKkygsXPw8MEI3WBJUZBlIkxSNTq-8iNxm8i4azm8BLvGJ2iL5B0sp4j4mUNGiDHwq9EECH-pSqZFmRs0kAzkYRP-yOZeFdmsL951dFJw/s1600/64971491_10104583989829696_4741269154592456704_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWAPU71za9NYDwvrBQyQqJlMdQ2M-XyEAIfuKkygsXPw8MEI3WBJUZBlIkxSNTq-8iNxm8i4azm8BLvGJ2iL5B0sp4j4mUNGiDHwq9EECH-pSqZFmRs0kAzkYRP-yOZeFdmsL951dFJw/s400/64971491_10104583989829696_4741269154592456704_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing in the river</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Visiting friends</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZYLf1IU3ZBZotGSasgMzCjdO9moHxof9FOfCly4VjgNMYycytTgVrB1AVUbSKY6DymVbYHGtoqju7Fn56oYk22w6p2yOc9A9WAuM2ItPCeJdJ7_EgfKSDOfB1Ja0dN3KcrL30MQy8UI/s1600/66784108_10104583989230896_4181932071825965056_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZYLf1IU3ZBZotGSasgMzCjdO9moHxof9FOfCly4VjgNMYycytTgVrB1AVUbSKY6DymVbYHGtoqju7Fn56oYk22w6p2yOc9A9WAuM2ItPCeJdJ7_EgfKSDOfB1Ja0dN3KcrL30MQy8UI/s400/66784108_10104583989230896_4181932071825965056_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And holding babies. All things made possible by not home schooling. Please notice my husband's shadow photobombing as he takes this pic.</td></tr>
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<br />
One of the other good things about not living there is that most of our crap no longer lives there as well. Which means our house has a lot less stuff in it. Which means that it is not so embarrassing to let our Hewa friends come into our house. Which means we let our Hewa friends come into our house more. (I could spend a long time here explaining to you why we didn't have a lot of people in our house before, but that is a topic for a post in and of itself, so I will just leave you with the imagery of eating a five course steak dinner at the the same table as a person who is and has been starving for years with nothing in front of them).<br />
<br />
So we had more people in our house. Doing so led to lots of discoveries like how tricky door knobs can be. One friend of mine had lots of trouble with the doorknob the first time she was in the house. I opened the door for her and told her how it worked and hopefully she realized that it wasn't a trap that the white lady set to cook her in my oven that she could definitely fit into** and eat her. <i>(The story of Hansel and Gretel would make perfect sense to the Hewa people, by the way)</i> The second time she came in, I assumed that my Doorknobs 101 lesson was enough and that she could successfully exit on her own. This was not the case. She begged me to come work the ridiculous contraption that left her trapped again. John Michael told me to stop and made her do it herself. She was successful. Open a door for a woman and she can leave once. Teach a woman to open a door and she can leave anytime she wants.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc7bcCmaWgeGsawFzGjfDfsQZaqftLqXw6Wd4K5jP1lcOSWHUTc1IdS0zB-_QbuwH3LfncQKK0VKtkSZFh50IYsO9GyuHEPzDeBwQyCCzguwR1SIsjsgOM6dlPCWdyZ0GXzjxGQ6zvaCs/s1600/66410720_10104583968821796_7741144227043606528_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc7bcCmaWgeGsawFzGjfDfsQZaqftLqXw6Wd4K5jP1lcOSWHUTc1IdS0zB-_QbuwH3LfncQKK0VKtkSZFh50IYsO9GyuHEPzDeBwQyCCzguwR1SIsjsgOM6dlPCWdyZ0GXzjxGQ6zvaCs/s400/66410720_10104583968821796_7741144227043606528_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A friend in the house. Not the one who can't use a door knob. This one is a trained midwife. She can deliver babies and open doors. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Like I said earlier, I got to attend all the Bible teaching sessions for the first time ever. That was pretty amazing, even though sitting on a rough hewn log for two hours twice a day made my butt numb <i>(I still can't feel part of my right cheek).</i> I loved being a part of the teaching and actually seeing and hearing firsthand how the people responded. It was pretty great. But before I talk about the response, I want to talk about the tribal church building. A new building went up while we were in America. Made from the disassembled parts of our former co-worker's house. It looks nice and sturdy and will hopefully last them a lot longer than one made out of bush materials. It does still have a dirt floor, however, and that is totally appropriate. Everyday the church filled with animals of all kinds and with them came their various forms of waste. Babies also filled the church and in a place where diapers are <a href="https://tribalwife.blogspot.com/2018/04/it-happens.html" target="_blank">non-existent</a> the easiest and best thing for the mothers of those babies is that dirt floor. When baby has an accident in church, mom can just pick it up with some scraps of fabric from her bag, brush some dust over it and no one even blinks. As I watched this take place numerous times, I became very thankful for that dirt floor. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijP95afP5o_7CxGTq5cE1nq87pzV-L0XTOPfU8PUuqQh88MJU716gaIabfYsi3AZ0uN5WZu0j-bYLhvf5ktlIW6RZxQCirSwBxa90ZlXlMgIqm6kqy_4mspiO-nhg89WmMc5xBA9e0NtQ/s1600/IMG_3902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1102" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijP95afP5o_7CxGTq5cE1nq87pzV-L0XTOPfU8PUuqQh88MJU716gaIabfYsi3AZ0uN5WZu0j-bYLhvf5ktlIW6RZxQCirSwBxa90ZlXlMgIqm6kqy_4mspiO-nhg89WmMc5xBA9e0NtQ/s400/IMG_3902.jpg" width="343" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom cleaning up after baby. Notice how no one notices. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The purpose of our trip was so my husband could teach 2 Timothy to the Hewa elders and the church. He spent the months while we were in town writing and editing those lessons and then we flew in to teach. This is a new book for the church as it was recently translated and checked by our co-worker and translation consultants. Many of the people don't even have the newest edition of the Hewa Bible that contains this book. Even after almost eight years in this ministry it still boggles my mind that the scripture we often take for granted is new and exciting for these most remote believers. They are the ends of the earth.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the teaching went really well, and everyone was very thankful for the work John Michael put in to teach them. One of our elders even came up afterwards and told him, "I'm so glad Jessi didn't die in America, so that you could come teach us this book. We needed to hear it because these are things we still struggle with. I heard this teaching well. Thank you for coming back to teach us."<br />
<br />
This made me first laugh, then tear up a little. To Hewans, being really sick equals dying. They saw me really sick. For a long time. They would frequently come to the door early in the mornings during the weeks before we left and say, "I was just coming to check on Jessi to see if she died in the night or if she got better." They have very little context of long term illness. The statement was funny to me because I have never been anywhere close to dying. But according to their experiences, I already had one foot in the grave. This is the sad state of their lives, but it isn't what made me tear up.<br />
<br />
My eyes got a blurry for a second because even though I wasn't close to death, I was close to not coming back. With plenty of pain and few answers, our time in America came close to being our permanent lives in America, and we frequently questioned the wisdom of coming back. We also frequently questioned if there was even any reason to come back... if what we were doing was really going to matter to anyone. So that funny little statement did wonders for our hearts. It encouraged us to keep going as long as we can. The Lord knew what we needed to hear just as He knew what the Hewa church needed to hear. This is the beauty and glory of the Body of Christ. The Bride. The Church. No matter the language, or race, or culture, or nationality, we are connected through the Blood and with the Spirit. We are for each other and for His Glory- just as He intended.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>He (Jesus) makes the whole body fit together perfectly. As each part does its own special work, it helps the other parts grow, so that the whole body is healthy and growing and full of love. Ephesians 4:16</i></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">*I</span> <span style="font-size: x-small;">felt the need to put this here because I noticed that too many people have the image in their heads that these "people groups" missionaries are reaching are not actual People. They are all "beautiful" "friends." To be honest, I find this a little patronizing. They are a regular group of people. In a regular group of people you will find some who are smart, some who are dumb, some who are attractive, some who are ugly, nice, funny, weird, annoying, quirky, mean etc. To pretend they are all perfect and that we love them perfectly is a lie. </span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">** I realize that knowing a person could easily fit into my oven is creepy. I only know that she could easily fit into my oven because it is a big American sized oven and she is a petite woman. It is pretty obvious. I was not actively trying to determine this information for nefarious purposes. </span></i>Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-88650827292162629042019-05-26T01:31:00.000-07:002019-05-26T02:02:52.992-07:00The -error- Wife<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfapa425WE5na-SQGFZvrcdS5KixiwQL0zbXxkUtyWkOotmFqOv8ygHXk2lDMXUZ8BItq0bT_nKFN9AXnzl9YvS3oFW5IumkQS-bWHf_KGrSUhnmsG4Fq5_v8t93IFl9XmuQA7DitdqlI/s1600/57272106_10104399996678446_4913976154706149376_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="917" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfapa425WE5na-SQGFZvrcdS5KixiwQL0zbXxkUtyWkOotmFqOv8ygHXk2lDMXUZ8BItq0bT_nKFN9AXnzl9YvS3oFW5IumkQS-bWHf_KGrSUhnmsG4Fq5_v8t93IFl9XmuQA7DitdqlI/s400/57272106_10104399996678446_4913976154706149376_o.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Picture of our former neighbor on JMG's visit back into the tribe</i></td></tr>
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We've been back in Papua New Guinea for three months now.<br />
<br />
We have been living on our main mission center so I can be close to our medical clinic where I have to have blood work once a month, and so I can be close to the doctors if my pancreas decides to explode.<br />
<br />
So far so good on that last one.<br />
<br />
Overall, my health has been stable and that has been really encouraging. I've figured out how to manage the pancreatitis with my diet which is pretty nice, although not very fun.<br />
<br />
I am on some pretty rough medicine for my autoimmune disease, and that is also not very fun. It is working really well, it just has some annoying side effects that knock me on my hind-end for a couple of days each week. I take the medicine on Friday nights so that I can still home school my kids (no we are not out for summer yet), and take care of my family during the week. But it does make me one of the few people in the world who dreads the coming of the weekend.<br />
<br />
There are lots of new and different medicines that I could try if we were in America, surely there is one out there that will work for me without any crazy side effects, but while we are in PNG I only have this one option that I just have to tough out.<br />
<br />
But like I said, it's only really bad a couple days a week and the rest of the time I get to enjoy pain-free joints, so it's worth it (I guess. Maybe. I don't know. It's Sunday and it doesn't feel very worth it today. I should have written this post on a Wednesday.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, to be completely honest, we've gone through an adjustment period being back in PNG, but NOT back in our home in the tribe. I've felt so weird living on the mission center, and asked myself (and Jesus) "What are we even doing here?" about one million times.<br />
<br />
John Michael has had to adjust to writing lessons without much help or feedback from Hewa friends which is so critical to the lesson writing process. He's done a lot of comprehension checking over the phone with one of his helpers who is living in another village so he can attend school. We are so thankful that this village has cell service, so he can do this work with at least some feedback.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguShP8pMjtiAaQCQjLyYiobFb_A2G3JYP5T__ej3AaPGM3leJ-_vGyphNtQXXee2qP_5c7Gr_oBzM7DDtqDjz_HbYxhm5IHteXiCTmiGvBT4FOisCU5vD0Pzg2hUcMXVFwmxyflDmXG9k/s1600/60007857_10156310095446444_2832316505469747200_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguShP8pMjtiAaQCQjLyYiobFb_A2G3JYP5T__ej3AaPGM3leJ-_vGyphNtQXXee2qP_5c7Gr_oBzM7DDtqDjz_HbYxhm5IHteXiCTmiGvBT4FOisCU5vD0Pzg2hUcMXVFwmxyflDmXG9k/s400/60007857_10156310095446444_2832316505469747200_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>JMG comprehension checking lessons in 2 Timothy over the phone at dinner time.</i></td></tr>
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Anyway, it's been an adjustment. I mean I am no longer a "tribal wife" It felt weird to post here because of it. I've gone through all sorts of ideas as to what I should do with this blog as I have processed this big shift in our lives. Should I even write here anymore? Should I change the name? Should I just leave it up as a journal of our first eight years in PNG? Should I delete it? Am I just being dramatic?<br />
<br />
I've pretty much landed on the last one. It just took me a while to get here. But here I am. Posting away and ignoring the title because<br />
A. Who cares?<br />
and<br />
B. I've been told that no one reads blogs anymore anyway.<br />
<br />
So if no one reads blogs anymore then surely no one will notice that this blog called "The Tribal Wife" is written by a lady who doesn't technically live in a tribe anymore. (Although mission base living shares some shocking similarities to tribal living, but I won't list them here because unlike my tribal neighbors, my missionary neighbors have the internet and can read what I write on this blog. JUST KIDDING <span style="font-size: x-small;">*sort of*</span> Lapilo friends and neighbors!!)<br />
<br />
JMG did get to take a trip into Hewa by himself in April just to check on things and reconnect with the church there. It was a really good time for him, and we all plan to go in as a family in July. He will teach the lessons he's been writing to the church leaders there so that they can then teach the whole body of believers. Now that we have elders and deacons our goal is to put more and more of the responsibilities of the church into their hands. It is a pretty exciting time for the Hewa church as they become more mature and independent even if it means we don't get to spend as much time with them as we'd like. <br />
<br />
Sigh. One of the problems of trying to plant a "thriving
church" is that if you succeed in your goal then they won't actually
need you anymore. It's a bittersweet thing to be successful in missions.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_eFsDcL67FL2YRiCYdSDD5GXk2zoNg2oKv_P-r7GwOPlTfChgpKObKR-o-hjyg0gIZ0WszTME1yo6bK2yEniII0nz4stdY9fu3vKzXdD-YrZUlE0ozeVZak82IfSpJL7VzowWOrAC4g/s1600/57106630_10104399996733336_2726626972451995648_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_eFsDcL67FL2YRiCYdSDD5GXk2zoNg2oKv_P-r7GwOPlTfChgpKObKR-o-hjyg0gIZ0WszTME1yo6bK2yEniII0nz4stdY9fu3vKzXdD-YrZUlE0ozeVZak82IfSpJL7VzowWOrAC4g/s400/57106630_10104399996733336_2726626972451995648_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>My house in the tribe is still standing. Doesn't it look like it misses me?</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmK3Y9QjGOVeFkrvv_20tX_oI32DBWdbzDFx7aYRmNZp2yyIJRzai1MCeneEbMq29FSsCg6SAn0NOLkXwag8Fs_hqZhQHgLx9eWKEUlJnYr30QkQVnygqpDD0XfoPVSwbi2QU-XZpBV3M/s1600/57186023_10104399995919966_236178623814434816_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="962" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmK3Y9QjGOVeFkrvv_20tX_oI32DBWdbzDFx7aYRmNZp2yyIJRzai1MCeneEbMq29FSsCg6SAn0NOLkXwag8Fs_hqZhQHgLx9eWKEUlJnYr30QkQVnygqpDD0XfoPVSwbi2QU-XZpBV3M/s400/57186023_10104399995919966_236178623814434816_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Just hanging out with some kids.</i></td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
However, there are plenty of other things that need to be done on the mission field. Which brings me to my next bit of news. One of my biggest concerns in coming back here was what I was actually going to do with myself while my husband worked on lessons and my kids went to school. I felt like I might go a little stir crazy without a job on the center, but was concerned that I wasn't actually qualified to DO anything. My jobs before "missionary" were high school Spanish teacher and before that part-time youth minister. That's it. And believe it or not, they already have a high school Spanish teacher at the mission school here. So, yeah, my options looked pretty limited. But the principal of the school seemed to think that my high school teaching experience would transfer to elementary school where they were in desperate <i>(obviously)</i> need of teachers. That and the fact that I have been teaching my own kids for most of their elementary careers. So all that to say, next year I will be teaching several different subjects in 4th and 5th grades. I'm both nervous and excited about it. Thankfully there are lots of teachers here to help me with the 14,000 questions I am sure to have. I almost called the principal last week to tell her I changed my mind after going on Pinterest to just "look up some fun ideas real quick." N E V E R A G A I N. I forgot that Pinterest is where you go when you really want to feel inferior and increase your self loathing by 1,000 percent. It is NOT where you go when you are starting something new and already feel a little intimidated. I remembered that I have lots of real life help from really nice teachers all around me, and there is no need to let the internet's "help" turn me into a human turtle hiding in my shell made of blankets and eating my own hair. <br />
<br />
So there it is. No longer a tribal wife. A teacher again. But "Teacher Wife" sounds weird, so I think I'm just going to leave the title alone if that's ok? Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-7879127689639324092019-02-23T16:55:00.000-08:002019-02-24T05:47:57.922-08:00Everybody's Trash<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9VdvkxtO-MigAsf_uNn60WcGqIZozWuNZ911t29h-pXKnyqorc1zUkdMF5jVw7xkjyatId8S9N9A3PZl9GCUywUHuTTR_gTCErAxL2IKV2QnHl-LXRkUKa0KKjsMiyYXiKLfSLkkTCs/s1600/P1090901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9VdvkxtO-MigAsf_uNn60WcGqIZozWuNZ911t29h-pXKnyqorc1zUkdMF5jVw7xkjyatId8S9N9A3PZl9GCUywUHuTTR_gTCErAxL2IKV2QnHl-LXRkUKa0KKjsMiyYXiKLfSLkkTCs/s400/P1090901.jpg" width="400" /> </a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>*</i></td></tr>
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In my last post, I said that I could write an entire post on just this quote alone...<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">"God will take care of you because you are doing His Work."</span> </b><br />
<br />
I've heard this SO MANY TIMES and have had numerous conversations with other missionaries over the years who have heard the same thing, (I've also had numerous conversations with people just after my last post about this). <br />
<br />
Sadly, I have heard (and seen on Facebook) people actually accusing missionaries who go through times of suffering with health issues of having too little faith. Or, that they need to repent of their unbelief in order to be healed. This has never been personally said to me, because God is faithful and He will not let me be tempted beyond what I can bear. I could not "bear" hearing this without arguing that this person would need to repent of habitually taking scripture out of context and condemning people with heretical nonsense. All glory to the <b><i>WISE</i></b> God, through Jesus Christ, forever. Amen.*<br />
<br />
Just like in the last post, I know people are just trying to be encouraging. And they probably really believe it, because in their hearts they really feel like we "deserve" to be taken care of. They appreciate what we do, sometimes to the point of putting us on a pedestal. And what goes on a pedestal? A statue of some great person who did a great thing. They usually use the very best image of that person to form his or her likeness into that statue. They don't usually choose an image of them old or crippled or missing limbs or covered in some sort of boils or pox. So as they imagine the missionaries on the pedestals they can't possibly have debilitating diseases or crippling deformities. Therefore, God has to protect the missionary in order to protect the perfect image in the mind of the believer.<br />
<br />
I feel like this idea is just a product of the prosperity gospel that is becoming more and more prevalent in our culture today. God blesses those who have enough faith or who "claim" whatever it is they want in His name. And who has more faith than the missionaries? The people going into the scary, remote, disease infested, crime ridden places to proclaim the Gospel? So if this belief does not hold up for the missionaries, the so-called <i>most faithful</i>, then the whole system falls apart.<br />
<br />
But that's exactly what needs to happen. This whole belief system needs to fall apart. The lie that being a believer brings you health, wealth, and prosperity as long as you "claim" and "believe."<br />
<br />
I recently read these words that Paul <i>(the very first missionary)</i> wrote to the Corinthian church about the people "Doing God's Work"<br />
<br />
<i>"I sometimes think God has put us apostles on display, like <b>prisoners of war at the end of a victor's parade, condemned to die." 1 Corinthians 4:9</b></i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisDVJqUuwV4FE-BD2crVbdkJZp5nRXBNbqK9fNMzUF3gjp8LHplq0VOop_y81v-w7u2OdJBiudsfm_Yp2_RXDYjdYXJLpVEb5Iq7RurJYH4ikjO44EuonVhyphenhyphenixoAOX7_o-0j3gWaM2g40/s1600/marching-with-bodies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="660" data-original-width="900" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisDVJqUuwV4FE-BD2crVbdkJZp5nRXBNbqK9fNMzUF3gjp8LHplq0VOop_y81v-w7u2OdJBiudsfm_Yp2_RXDYjdYXJLpVEb5Iq7RurJYH4ikjO44EuonVhyphenhyphenixoAOX7_o-0j3gWaM2g40/s400/marching-with-bodies.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>An image of the infamous Bataan Death March during WWII where most were paraded to their deaths</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
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This is just one image that Paul uses to describe what it is like to "do God's work." <br />
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Not pretty or comfortable. Nothing I'd want to "claim" for myself. <br />
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He goes on to say in verse 11-<br />
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<i>"Even now we go <b>hungry and thirsty</b>, and we <b>don't have enough clothes to keep warm</b>. We are <b>often beaten </b>and<b> have no home."</b></i><br />
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Definitely not full of health and wealth.<i><b> </b></i><br />
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And in verse 13-<br />
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<i><b>"</b>We are treated like the world's</i> <b>GARBAGE</b>, <i>like </i><b>EVERYBODY'S TRASH</b>- <i>right up to the present moment."</i><br />
<i><b> </b></i><br />
Nothing about prosperity. Just garbage. <i><b><br /></b></i><br />
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These are just a few of the numerous verses that promise us trials, suffering, and persecution for doing God's work. If we want to "cling to God's promises" we can't just cling to the promises we like. We can't feel the peace and comfort of the rainbow without remembering the horror of the flood.<br />
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Peter reminds us <i>"not to be surprised at the <b>FIERY</b> trials you are going through as if something strange were happening to you." </i><br />
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So the difficulties in our lives- <br />
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<b>A.</b> Should not surprise us<br />
<b>B.</b> Will be "fiery" not just minor annoyances<br />
<b>C. </b>Are not a strange thing happening to us that we need to figure out the reason for or how to fix <i>(i.e. repent of, rebuke, have more faith in)</i><br />
<i> </i><br />
Peter says that instead of trying to figure out what we did wrong and how to fix it, we should <i>"be very glad- for these trials make you partners with Christ in his suffering, so that you will have the wonderful joy of seeing his glory when it is revealed to all the world." </i><br />
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Of course, <b><i>OF COURSE</i></b> the Bible is also full of good promises. Full of God's unfailing love, grace, mercy, and forgiveness. There are also promises of blessings. Of Good and Perfect gifts. It's not all doom and gloom until we get to Heaven and I don't want it to seem like that is all I am "claiming" here. I've just noticed an alarming trend toward our current Christian culture's idea that if something is difficult, or harmful, or just not super fun then it is not from God. <br />
<i></i><br />
<br />
The truth is that the life of Christian service is a strange combination of joy and suffering walking hand in hand. It is the exact opposite of what the prosperity gospel proclaims. Through suffering Christ will be made known to the world. Not necessarily through specials gifts and blessings and miracles (although there are sure to be some of those along the way). A few of the best verses to explain this phenomenon are in 2 Corinthians 4:8-1. <br />
<i><b> </b></i><br />
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<i>"We are <b>pressed</b> on every side by troubles, but we are <b>not crushed</b>. We are <b>perplexed</b>, but <b>not driven to despair</b>. <span class="reftext"></span>We are <b>hunted down</b>, but <b>never abandoned by God</b>. We get <b>knocked down</b>, but we are <b>not destroyed</b>. <span class="reftext"></span> Through <b>SUFFERING</b>, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the <b>life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies...</b></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Yes, we live under constant danger of death because we serve Jesus, so
that the life of Jesus will be evident in our dying bodies."</b></i></span></div>
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<span class="reftext"></span></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">So please, PLEASE, stop telling people in ministry (especially missionaries) that God will take care of them or heal them or make everything perfect in their lives all the time because they work for Him.</span></span><i><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></b></i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">That is just simply unbiblical. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">If you want to encourage missionaries (or all believers) simply tell them that you love them and you are praying for them. You can absolutely pray for their perfect healing and for miracles and blessings. Those prayers are definitely appreciated and are even answered sometimes. Just also remember that you can encourage people when those prayers are not answered in that way. You can pray for strength, endurance, and a strong testimony of faith through those fiery trials. And if you just can't figure out what to say, you can minister to them by maybe showing up with a hug and a smile and a cup of coffee and maybe a chocolate cake.**</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Because even though we are the world's trash, we are the Lord's treasure. </span></span><br />
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<i>*Disclaimer: this pic of me hanging out and cooking dinner in a Hewa house has nothing to do with this post. I've found that if I don't post a tribally picture in these posts, no one clicks on them. I am admitting that this pic is click bait. </i><br />
<i> **Romans 16:27</i><br />
<i>**unless the person has pancreatitis then leave the chocolate cake at home</i>Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-53938974849487663472019-02-19T09:15:00.002-08:002019-02-23T17:10:07.541-08:00The Ghost at the Door<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We are rapidly approaching our departure for PNG. I'm still not telling the internet what day we are leaving. I will tell <i>you</i> that we are now counting down days, not weeks or months, D A Y S. </div>
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Because we love to leave these kinds of things to the last minute and because we honestly weren't 100% sure we'd be returning until the last minute, we just sent out prayer cards to our friends, family, and supporters. Here is a picture of what we mailed out... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJCTMR-oLIuf11jz2rtHHp_u8lYnl1dgsQpAlV7cwKRLCCYfCRDNin_C1lQRDCkKRTOpQT-csznZIx964vVJnR9gL9sL8PNc41gSALsjlwLVn6oND5us-qAhse-MvrkWq1w1HWeApvzc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-02-18+at+9.35.50+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="896" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJCTMR-oLIuf11jz2rtHHp_u8lYnl1dgsQpAlV7cwKRLCCYfCRDNin_C1lQRDCkKRTOpQT-csznZIx964vVJnR9gL9sL8PNc41gSALsjlwLVn6oND5us-qAhse-MvrkWq1w1HWeApvzc/s400/Screen+Shot+2019-02-18+at+9.35.50+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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But this is what we probably <i>should</i> have sent out...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ-U1yN75a1D70GQYwc-_SFcWW8u6ZkwR24y0xlEqzr9D5ffoL7SrITKgKu7yziENVNl-qkCYMFiUAwk34P8n99JqBq9ioiNisRKlj8YMdRBql1R_-mBecyLE6DKQLbW5LkxTihcOtR5A/s1600/Pancreas+George.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="896" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ-U1yN75a1D70GQYwc-_SFcWW8u6ZkwR24y0xlEqzr9D5ffoL7SrITKgKu7yziENVNl-qkCYMFiUAwk34P8n99JqBq9ioiNisRKlj8YMdRBql1R_-mBecyLE6DKQLbW5LkxTihcOtR5A/s400/Pancreas+George.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Just in case you didn't know. That is a pancreas. And I feel like this is probably a truthful representation of the personality of my pancreas. It likes lots of attention and loves to be the star of the show. And whether or not we get to stay in the country and continue our ministry all depends on this temperamental organ that loves the spotlight, so needless to say, I'm a little nervous about our return. I'm just praying, hoping, begging, that we don't get there and immediately have to turn around and come home.<br />
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I've told many people this and I just keep hearing that I need to "have faith" or that "Jesus will heal you" or that "God will take care of you because you are doing His work*." I know all these phrases are meant to be encouraging. That people want me to feel like they are rooting for me, and I truly do appreciate it.<br />
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But...<br />
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None of those things are an actual guarantee. I mean if everything will work out because we are doing "His work" why did I even get pancreatitis in the first place? Why have we been kept out of the work for so long? And I have "had faith" every single time we have gone to PNG, that the Lord would keep us there to finish the task He gave us.<br />
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It's not that I don't "have faith." I have faith that no matter what happens He will be there to comfort us, guide us, and provide for us. I have faith that He will give us the strength to get through whatever it is we will face when we get over there. Whether it is staying and finishing on the projected timeline, or whether it is immediately turning around and coming back home.<br />
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It's just that I don't want to go through the hassle, heartache, and financial burden of the turning around and immediately coming back home.<br />
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So why go back?<br />
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This is a question I get a lot too. If I know that having to turn around and immediately come back home is a possibility <i>and</i> a possibility that I absolutely dread, then why risk it?<br />
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The answer is pretty simple. We risk it because He told us to. He told us to go back. He told us to go back with no guarantee that we will get to stay. But we told Him a long time ago that we would do whatever He said and go wherever He wanted, and we were so young and naive and zealous that we didn't think to put any asterisks or loopholes on that promise. I mean, honestly, if I could have foreseen all that would happen I probably would have said something like, "Lord, I will go be a missionary and serve you wherever you send me, as long as you provide me with a guarantee that we won't be bounced around a lot and have a lot of chaos and upheaval and health issues. I don't mind isolation, or weird food, or ax murderers, but I really don't handle transition well. So keep the transitions to a minimum and I'll go wherever you send me." Looking back, it was pretty dumb of me (<i>and frankly very anti-American</i>) to not include a fine print on my contract with God.<br />
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I mean... I'm so glad that I didn't do that... you know... for my spiritual growth and maturity and humility... and everything else God has brought with all this "things not going my way" business. But sometimes my flesh just wants everything to be easy more than it wants to be "mature."<br />
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Just being honest.<br />
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I do remind myself when the things continually refuse to go my way, that in the end I really do want the Lord to grow me and conform me to His image no matter how much I whine about it. And thankfully He knows that is truthfully what my heart wants most and ignores my grumbles that indicate otherwise.<br />
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But because of all this I have been thinking a lot about why we, as a body of believers, feel like we have to encourage people with the best possible outcome. Why we can't say, "You know God may never heal you. He may make you fly back and forth from PNG to America one MILLION times, but whatever He does or allows, He won't leave you alone in it. And He won't waste it. So, yeah, everything might happen exactly OPPOSITE of the plan, or opposite of what you want the plan to be, but no matter what, <i>God is faithful</i>." Why can't we speak these words of truth into each others' lives? I know similar phrases get spoken a lot after the fact. After everything goes wrong, this is what we usually hear, and they do help to encourage us. But I feel like they would be just as encouraging beforehand, because I wouldn't feel like such a horrible Christian, much less missionary, when I doubt every word proclaimed to me that guarantees a positive outcome. When I hear these words too often, I feel like I'm seriously lacking in the faith department and that maybe everyone else is better at belief than me (<i>and maybe all these people should be getting on that plane in my place</i>).<br />
<br />
But when you personally see and face trials and difficulty, sometimes it's hard to have faith to expect good outcomes. And what do you know??? The Word of God has some perfect examples of His people responding exactly in this way. <br />
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Acts chapter 12 is a great one. Peter is put in prison by Herod and many of the believers were at home praying for his release. An angel comes to miraculously lead Peter out of prison. So, he goes on to a house where the believers were gathered and praying for him, the house of Mary, mother of John Mark, according to Acts 12: 12. The servant who went to the gate to let this visitor in didn't even open it. She ran back to tell the others that she recognized Peter's voice. The others didn't believe her and said it must be his "angel," or in other words, his ghost.<br />
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I've heard this story preached many times about how we should pray and BELIEVE. And look at these dumb early Christians who refused to see the answer to the prayers they were praying right in front of them.<br />
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But I never heard anyone preach on the first verses of the chapter. The verses that explain that James...the brother of John... the disciple... was arrested then executed by Herod, executed by the <i>sword</i> is what scripture describes. And it was such a big hit with the Jews that Herod had Peter arrested in order to execute him as well. These same believers also more than likely witnessed the <i>stoning</i> of Stephen. They watched people throw rocks at him until he died. I have no doubt they prayed just as fervently for Stephen and for James as they did for Peter. I'm sure it was easier to believe that the same thing happened to Peter rather than believe that the angel delivered him. Because in our tiny human understanding we immediately think, "Why save Peter and NOT Stephen or James?"<br />
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But that is a whole other <span style="color: blue;"><a href="https://tribalwife.blogspot.com/2018/09/not-offended.html" target="_blank">blog post.</a> </span><br />
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My point here is to say that once you see the prayer NOT answered in the way you were asking... once you see the people you love and are praying for executed... once you see the hard and horrific things happen in spite of all your faith and prayers, it becomes harder and harder to accept the miracle. It's not that you've lost your faith in God to DO the miracle. It's just that you think He is only allowing the difficult things and the suffering right now for whatever reason and you just have to get through it.<br />
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That's where we've been for a long time I think. I don't know if we even realized it until recently when we had a pretty big miracle come knocking at our door and we responded pretty much exactly like Mary's household. We were actually terrified of this GOOD thing the Lord delivered right into our hands, like it was a ghost coming to warn us of impending doom.<br />
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It's messed up I know. And we felt pretty guilty about the way we responded to this incredible thing the Lord had done for us. Thankfully, we got some help and encouragement throughout the process, but I think more than anything this story in Acts helped me realize that I wasn't alone in my reaction or lack of faith. It helped me realize that there are a lot of trials and suffering in the Christian life, but God is faithful to give us the miraculous as well. He will give extravagantly even when we are expecting nothing but the sword or the stones.<br />
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So, as I look at my pancreas prayer card, and <strike>tremble with fear that things will not go our way</strike> wonder as we return to PNG, I will remember that sometimes God does do the miraculous. Sometimes He answers our prayers in exactly the way we want Him to. Sometimes it is Peter at the door and not just his ghost.<br />
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But I will also remember that He has been with us through all the trials and sufferings and has given us the grace and strength to get through it each time. So even if everything <i>does</i> go to crap** we will be ok. He will make it ok.<br />
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*<i>I could write an entire post about this phrase alone and all the examples in the Bible that are the exact opposite of this. In fact, I might write that one tomorrow. Or possibly next year. You never know. It keeps things exciting between us. </i><br />
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*<i>*I will not apologize for using the word crap. I am not Beth Moore.*** If I wrote a million Bible Studies and was the Queen of Lifeway then I would probably apologize, but since I know that most of you that read this blog are ok with me using the word crap, and the rest of you are gracious and forgiving, I will just use it. Thanks. </i><br />
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<i>***None of this is a slam on Beth Moore or meant to be derogatory toward her or Lifeway. I've done most of her Bible studies and have loved them and learned a lot. I have also been to Lifeway**** and overpaid for many a Bible and other spiritual paraphernalia.</i><br />
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<i>****This of course was before Amazon was invented. I haven't stepped foot inside a Lifeway since I bought my Amazon Prime membership and I'm not even sorry about it. </i>Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-19086567404384557162019-01-16T20:52:00.000-08:002019-02-23T17:06:59.838-08:00Itching to Go BackHey, remember when I wrote that we were going back to PNG in early January? Well, it's the middle of January and we are still in Mississippi.<br />
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I'm getting pretty sick of writing out our plans for the internet to read just to have to turn around and tell the internet that I lied. But maybe the internet is used to it by now.<br />
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If you are shocked by our change of plans then you probably haven't been reading this blog very long.<br />
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I went to my rheumatologist in December and he said that we needed to stay until at least February so he could get me on the right medicine for my autoimmune issues and wanted to monitor my pancreatitis on whatever medicine we tried.<br />
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So after I had a major meltdown, we agreed with the doctor and started the new medication. It was going so well that we went ahead and booked tickets for a time that I am not going to write on this post because I'm done writing our plans on this blog. All you need to know is that we bought tickets to go back to PNG for a date sometime in the near future.<br />
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The day after the charges showed up on my credit card, I broke out in a crazy rash that turned out to be psoriasis which the new medicine is supposed to prevent me from getting. At this point, a rash is the least of my medical problems, so I doubt that will do anything to change our plans at this point.<br />
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I have to admit that this year in America has made me reflect more than ever about our lives as missionaries. There were times I honestly felt like we wouldn't be able to return. There were times when I honestly felt like I didn't want to return. There are still times when I am honestly scared to death to return. And there were times when I was scared to death that we wouldn't be able to return.<br />
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The not being able to return is actually just as scary as the returning with health problems. People seemed to think not returning was the simple solution. You're sick, so you don't go back. Problem solved. But it is so much more complicated than that when it means an entire life/job/country/culture change...w<span style="background-color: white;">hen you've been preparing your entire adult life for one thing and then all of a sudden that thing looks like it will be ripped out from under you. </span><br />
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I remember over the summer I was having a particularly hard time dealing with significant pain from some stents that were placed in my pancreatic and bile ducts. It was the third procedure I'd been through and felt very discouraged that nothing was helping, and was terrified that this meant we would not be able to return to PNG. I was in line at Walmart in North Carolina when a couple in front of me started talking to me about something I can't even remember now. What I do remember is that the man used language so colorful that I fully expected a pot of gold to land at my feet at the end of each sentence. I never said anything to him about it, but when his wife asked where I was from (I told them earlier I was visiting my mom and sister) I answered that I was a missionary in Papua New Guinea. The husband turned white and started apologizing for his $#@*&! language, but I just laughed and told him it was ok.<br />
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<i>Sidenote:</i><br />
<i>Ask any missionary/pastor/person in ministry- this is a very common occurrence. Strangers who strike up conversations with us and speak without restraint usually act as if a trap door will open at any second and send them straight to Hell as soon as they learn what we do. They usually apologize profusely and then tell us about their great-uncle who once was a deacon's best friend and how they waited to get past the First Baptist Church's parking lot before they threw their cigarette butt out the window. Let me just clear the air right now...I have been cursed around and cursed at many times and have never seen or operated a trap door to Hell. So relax, foul language lovers, the missionaries are not the secret language police lying in wait to damn your soul for all eternity.</i><br />
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Anyway, after that conversation, I went to my car to cry about the fact that I might not get to be a missionary any longer and will no longer get to <strike>scare people who curse around me with my trap door to Hell </strike>show grace to people who use foul language in my presence. I know it was a stupid thing to cry about, but my stomach was hurting and I was buying a bunch of junk food for my kids that I couldn't even eat, and I might have been hormonal, but there's now way to know because I had a partial hysterectomy five years ago. <br />
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But I can assure you that there have been A LOT of conversations between Jesus and myself on this subject (<i>the subject of us going back, not curse words or trap doors to Hell)</i>, and I feel pretty confident that He wants us to return.<br />
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If He doesn't then He wants us to live homeless and jobless in America.<br />
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He has provided us with renewed visas to PNG, plane tickets to get there, and a green light from my doctor in PNG (the one I trust the most with this decision), so off we go.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg624gO7ukD0psp4r6nwbNKnHF5hndEhTeN65jRtbpYISxxNh88d6U3flplCyS92ArfIA4R1rpwxXikzgFfUbCwNs7VRrAdE4D0HLeO6F_epBneCYA6gKGcJWW5Kd20V1bsYCNwyqhI9Co/s1600/1234986_10100812738332926_453609221_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg624gO7ukD0psp4r6nwbNKnHF5hndEhTeN65jRtbpYISxxNh88d6U3flplCyS92ArfIA4R1rpwxXikzgFfUbCwNs7VRrAdE4D0HLeO6F_epBneCYA6gKGcJWW5Kd20V1bsYCNwyqhI9Co/s400/1234986_10100812738332926_453609221_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Our tiny area of existence. Literally carved out of the jungle in the middle of nowhere.</i></td></tr>
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Yes, I'm going back with some health problems. I'm going back with a broken pancreas, a broken immune system, and an itchy rash. But I'm going back. I honestly don't know what this term will look like for us. I know our lives and ministries will work differently than they have in the past. And our goals will be different than before. My biggest goal this time is to just stay in the country for 12 consecutive months. I mean we can't get any Bible teaching or discipleship done if we are not in the country. So, I'd say it is a pretty legitimate goal.<br />
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Because of my health situation the last couple of years and because of other events that have taken place in our time in Hewa, John Michael and I have seriously struggled with questions like, "What are we accomplishing in PNG? Are we really contributing anything worthwhile? Is there even any point in us being there?" And while there are moments we can look back on and see where God was working in and through our time there, we know that ultimately our return has to do with obedience alone. He calls us to go, so we go, even if we have no idea what life will look like when we get there.<br />
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I will admit that rather than going back fully rested and rejuvenated
from furlough, we are going back with weariness and trepidation. That's
probably not what you want to hear from your missionary, but it's the
truth. I feel like we are in a low point in our ministry, but I was recently reminded through a good friend and mentor that God is the author of our story and every good story has highs and lows, unexpected challenges and joyous victories. Our story is no different. In fact, the pivotal point of the Gospel itself is the low point. Jesus comes to earth as the promised Savior, Messiah, but instead of being put on a throne, He is crucified on a cross. There is no lower point than that. But the result of that low point-the Risen Savior who defeats sin and conquers deaths creates the greatest story ever told.<br />
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For the first time I'm going back with no expectations, with no grand
notions of how things should play out, or look like. I have no idea what
God can/will/wants to do with this broken body in a country where it is
very hard to live without good health. But maybe for the first time
ever, I'm going back the way He wants me to, completely and utterly
dependent on Him to even be able to stay in the country much less
accomplish anything..at a really low point, with all my plans and pride dead and buried. Now all I have to do is stay in the story to see what He will resurrect and redeem. <br />
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This Elisabeth Elliot quote gives me comfort as I struggle with these low points in our story-<br />
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No matter what we face, the feelings of fruitlessness or futility, the perplexities of my health issues, or the pain we feel when the story doesn't go as we think it should, Jesus wants to and will fill us with His joy. With His life. We traded our lives for His a long time ago knowing that suffering and death were a part of His story. But most importantly we know that His story <i>(and therefore ours)</i> ends in resurrection and new life, complete joy and perfect peace.Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-58112384888194189672018-09-17T16:58:00.000-07:002018-09-17T18:48:04.082-07:00Not OffendedHi. Remember me? Sometimes I write stuff on this blog. Sometimes I don't write stuff on this blog for a very long time. Thank you for understanding.<br />
<br />
It is September. I have been in America for nine months "getting my pancreas fixed."<br />
<br />
Spoiler Alert: My pancreas is not fixed. And probably won't be for a long time, possibly never.<br />
<br />
But that's ok.<br />
<br />
<i>No really, it's </i>FINE.<br />
<br />
After my gallbladder surgery, I felt great and was very optimistic...then about two weeks later the pain and nausea came back.<br />
<br />
So I went to the doctor 47,000 more times and had 643 more tests and procedures that are too boring to write about, but gave me a million scars on my stomach.* As you can probably guess from the few sentences above, none of them worked. Each time I thought they were working for like a week or two, and then I would start to have pain and nausea again and my pancreatic enzyme levels would still be elevated.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6rxBIiUuo97h7vmsFguYf4io4kWd1Bb7ZS32DzshzjYDzRYdHEyoK7JmmpfFXwSJREaxvF_FazthPpPgyWXiktVRZGVLDFADlJITByvFI5-FmidhKM_LaTJ1GYTbwAsdSBgDlOxQy4Q/s1600/11887908_10101853917182166_5253284787612902382_n%25282%2529+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6rxBIiUuo97h7vmsFguYf4io4kWd1Bb7ZS32DzshzjYDzRYdHEyoK7JmmpfFXwSJREaxvF_FazthPpPgyWXiktVRZGVLDFADlJITByvFI5-FmidhKM_LaTJ1GYTbwAsdSBgDlOxQy4Q/s400/11887908_10101853917182166_5253284787612902382_n%25282%2529+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*<i>I
will not show you a picture of my stomach (you're welcome). I will tell
you that with all the scars, it looks like I had a conversation with this baby** about my stomach trouble and he said, "I can check that for you if
you want. I mean I have this knife," and then I answered, "Sure, baby.
Take that big knife, cut up my stomach, and have a look around." </i></td></tr>
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<br />
But the good news is that my pancreatitis is mild. I can still eat, I just can't eat anything really fun. And my levels aren't high enough to be dangerous or anything. And I'm not in so much pain that I even need to take pain medicine. Basically, I'm just on a low-fat diet like a mom in the 90s.<br />
<br />
The even better news is that all my doctors think it is fine for us to return to PNG. We will have to live on the mission center for the foreseeable future so I can be monitored just like we were doing before, but we get to go back.<br />
<br />
Overall, I'm trying to see all the good in this and not focus on the fact that I am returning pretty much exactly the same way that I left. And even though it <i>feels </i>like we just wasted a lot of time and money for there to be no change whatsoever, I know that's not really the truth. The truth is that we spent a lot of time and money to have the peace of mind that this isn't something horrible and I can live with this condition with relatively few lifestyle changes.<br />
<br />
In the process of every test and procedure only producing disappointment, a friend suggested I read "The Prisoner in the Third Cell" by Gene Edwards and it was so perfect for this season of life.<br />
<br />
John the Baptist sends his disciples to ask Jesus if he is the Messiah. John can't go himself because he is in prison for speaking God's truth to powerful people who didn't want to hear it. He was killed soon after.<br />
<br />
Jesus' answer is-<span class="text Luke-7-22" id="en-ESV-25209"> </span><br />
<br />
<i><span class="text Luke-7-22" id="en-ESV-25209"> <span class="woj">“Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers<sup> </sup>are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have good news preached to them.</span></span><span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>And blessed is the one who is not offended by me.”</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj">Jesus is performing amazing miracles in God's name, but John sits in prison. Some people are healed from terrible illnesses, but not all. A few people are raised from the dead, but only a few. There are a lot of people who are still mourning loved ones. A lot people are still blind. And deaf. There are a lot people still imprisoned unjustly. Jesus extended miraculous physical mercy and grace to some, but many more still suffered and died even though the Messiah walked among them. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj">Jesus tells John's disciples that anyone who is "not offended by me" is blessed. I love the way Gene Edwards describes John's struggle as it is something most of us still struggle with today. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj">Why won't God heal me or my loved one when I know He can?</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj">Why did I not get the miracle that my neighbor did? </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj">Jesus knew this would be hard for us all. For the people of His day all the way to the people of ours. </span></span><br />
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj">Jesus' own earthly family probably experienced this in a very personal way. Most biblical scholars believe that Jesus' father Joseph died sometime in between his first miracle of turning the water into wine and His death on the cross. Imagine Joseph dying and Jesus not doing anything. Now imagine his family's reaction to Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. Either before or after- it doesn't matter- it would be hard to for them to reconcile that He saved a friend but not their father. How could they <i>not </i>be offended? But at least one of them wasn't or was and got over it, and became the leader of the church in Jerusalem and wrote an epistle that is now Scripture. Maybe God didn't lead Jesus to save Joseph for our sake? God heals who He heals and saves who He saves and if He didn't spare Jesus' earthly father and if He didn't even spare Jesus, then how can we be offended when he doesn't spare us or our loved ones? </span></span><br />
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj"><br /></span></span>
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj"><br /></span></span>
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj">So even though we won't ever fully grasp why some get miracles and others don't, with our hearts of flesh, our spirits must rest in Him, have peace in who He is, and trust His will for our lives (even when it seems like His will for our neighbors' lives looks way better and we feel gypped.) </span></span><br />
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj"> </span></span><span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj">You have not been gypped. No matter what. Some may receive healing mercies in this life, but all who believe will receive them in the life to come. The one that matters. The one that lasts. So don't be offended. Take what He gives you in this life, whether it is sickness or healing or life or death, and use it for the one to come. Invest the currency He gives you today for the greatest return tomorrow. </span></span><br />
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj"><br /></span></span>
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj">Right now, I'm not going to be offended that I did not receive the healing that I asked for. I'm going to take this bum pancreas and invest it in the Gospel. So, we will still return to Papua New Guinea in early January and will be there as long as His will allows. </span></span><br />
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj"><br /></span></span>
<span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj"><br /></span></span>
<i><span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj">**This photo is not photoshopped. This is a very real baby with a very real knife. When I asked his mother, who is a very good friend of mine, if she thought it was dangerous for the baby to have the knife, she simply answered, "Don't worry. It's not sharp." Naturally, instead of taking the knife I took a picture to have as a record of what he looked like with both of his eyes. </span></span></i><br />
<i><span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj"> </span></span><span class="text Luke-7-23" id="en-ESV-25210"><span class="woj"> </span></span></i>Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-78064819739000271562018-04-18T20:06:00.001-07:002018-04-21T19:05:57.938-07:00It HappensI decided to be a good little blogger and not leave you all hanging about my appointment with the doctor on Monday. He started out with, "Your case is very rare and very tricky." That made my heart try to jump right out of my body, but it didn't quite make it. Instead it got stuck in my throat. I quickly attempted to swallowed it back down, but it slid right past my chest and landed in my stomach. It swam around down there for a while making me have to concentrate really hard on listening to what the doctor said and not throwing up all over his little rolly desk.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, he was saying some things that made my displaced heart calm itself, and by the end of the visit it was back where it belonged and even feeling pretty optimistic, because even though my case is rare and tricky, this doctor has a plan. And that plan starts with removing my gallbladder. We're hoping that removing the gallbladder will solve most if not all of my issues and this will be end, Amen. I will have surgery on Tuesday and I never would have thought I could be so excited about having a body part removed!<br />
<br />
There you go. Consider yourself updated- those of you who were on the edge of your seats waiting for news (basically just my mom).<br />
<br />
With all these appointments, tests, and procedures, I've spent a lot of time talking to medical professionals about what we do as missionaries in PNG. I've had some very interesting conversations with varying degrees of response from shock and awe to I don't care would you please shut up so I can go to lunch.<br />
<br />
I always find it fascinating to see what really surprises people or what they really focus in on about our lives and work. A lot of people really can't believe that we can/do live without the internet. You know that meme that keeps going around saying something like, "Go live in a cabin in the woods for a month with no phone, internet, or TV for $100,000. Would you do it?" Umm, yeah. One month? Try six months and where is my money?<br />
<br />
Anyway, there are lots of different things that people just can't wrap their minds around. I always think it is going to be the witch killing, but it almost never is. Today was one of the funniest though.<br />
<br />
I was talking to a nurse, explaining everything, answering lots of questions, and somehow we got to talking about mothers and babies and how no baby in Hewa wears a diaper.<br />
<br />
She was shocked. She was speechless. Her eyebrows shot up so high they hit a flock of birds and crash landed into the Hudson River.<br />
<br />
"But what happens when they <i>go</i>?" "I mean <i>where</i> does it <i>go</i>?"<br />
<br />
And when I explained that it just "goes" on the moms and they wipe it off with a rag and go on with life, it was like I said they mixed it up with dinner and ate it.<br />
<br />
"Well, you must never hold their babies then, " was her next response.<br />
<br />
"Um, no, I am pretty much always holding a baby."<br />
<br />
"Do they go on <i>you</i>?"<br />
<br />
"No, they instinctively know that I'm a spoiled Western lady and would die or at least get pancreatitis if I was ever pooped on."<br />
<br />
Is what I wanted to say, but instead I answered,<br />
<br />
"Yes."<br />
<br />
I refrained from showing her the picture my husband took one day after I was pooped on by one of the cutest babies* ever born into this world, but I won't refrain from showing it to you.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqCyPGTya6UOhcNZNFQsQ3u6v0XHMfIxb6VX6NJO2huq49IYPHgd1sArpUAmdV5GzNg8jpj2PbRK3e7lFqqdclCxzewBHFk25F3WmQXlwRtNhGZhOX7-wVn3FPPGMdMgwp6GYQv-d_3Zs/s1600/IMG_2579.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqCyPGTya6UOhcNZNFQsQ3u6v0XHMfIxb6VX6NJO2huq49IYPHgd1sArpUAmdV5GzNg8jpj2PbRK3e7lFqqdclCxzewBHFk25F3WmQXlwRtNhGZhOX7-wVn3FPPGMdMgwp6GYQv-d_3Zs/s400/IMG_2579.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Yes, that is baby poop. He got me good.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I tried to explain to her that I just wipe it off with a towel or rag like they do and keep talking/walking/doing whatever I'm doing at the time like it's no big deal. I don't freak out. I just act like they do. But the next time I go into my house I do shower and change my skirt. Fortunately, I'm rich enough to own more than one skirt and have the ability to that.<br />
<br />
One of my favorite things to do in the village when a lady gives birth is to gift her with a meal and a new skirt. She has to bury the one she gave birth in (they don't take their skirts off, ever, even to give birth or bathe) with the other bloody rags and towels to avoid contaminating anyone or anything which usually only leaves her with one skirt to wear. This means when her newborn poops and pees on her, she can't change or wash it until someone graciously decides to give her another skirt or until she can afford a new one. Since babies don't wait to start pooping, I don't like the mothers to have to wait to be able to wash that poop off.<br />
<br />
I also tried to explain this to the nurse today, but I don't think her brain could handle anymore information regarding babies, poop, and no diapers because I had a hard time getting her to focus on anything else after that. Even as she walked out of the room she said, "It was nice to meet you and hear about your work," and then mumbled, "no diapers..." as she walked out.<br />
<br />
I say all that to say, I get pooped on. It happens. But it happens a lot less to me than it does to the actual mothers of the babies that are caring for them round the clock. And by now things like this in the tribe have become weirdly normal to us, so time in America is always a good wake-up call to what is and isn't normal <i>(nothing and everything)</i>. It reminds me that I should keep writing blogs and keep record of this weird life that God has given us because I don't ever want to forget what He has allowed us to experience. I don't ever want to forget that He uses us in this place with these people that are so different from us and everything that we know. I don't want to forget what it is like to be so inadequate for a task, but for God to miraculously take everything that we are <i>not</i>, everything that we <i>can't </i>and produce something eternal.<br />
<br />
And as weird as it sounds, I don't ever want to forget what it feels like to be pooped on, and just keep on going. Because that is daily life for my Hewa sisters. And I don't ever want to forget what it is like to live life with them.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2i0sTG3ivc8FNyFohURzM0_y9iH8ZzzyIM__2D9SZDwpfBs7DlgzhG6B4JPuc83objHZ3RvBWCyNtjcRbPi3hT1T9ocUnTYSzSKFAYEJqF6MlAVCQYwv2dPaxPXBaP84gqwcRk-CcZvE/s1600/IMG_2580.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2i0sTG3ivc8FNyFohURzM0_y9iH8ZzzyIM__2D9SZDwpfBs7DlgzhG6B4JPuc83objHZ3RvBWCyNtjcRbPi3hT1T9ocUnTYSzSKFAYEJqF6MlAVCQYwv2dPaxPXBaP84gqwcRk-CcZvE/s400/IMG_2580.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>*I wasn't exaggerating</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-77436107130496943952018-04-15T19:39:00.000-07:002018-04-21T19:03:43.187-07:00A Feast of CrumbsIt's Sunday night. Tomorrow I have yet another appointment to discuss the latest test performed on my pancreas. It is test number 1,438,25. And just like all the other tests before it, it showed nothing. Well...that's not true. It showed that something is wrong with my pancreas. But still no answers as to what or why or how to treat whatever is wrong with my pancreas. Also, I now hate hearing, saying, and typing the word pancreas.<br />
<br />
It's April 15th. Just in case you've been in a coma for a while and had no idea what today's date is. We've been home since January and are still no closer to finding any answers, and although we have until next January to get everything straightened out, I'm starting to freak out a little. I feel like I'm just watching the months roll by with no progress, and no solutions. The doctors still haven't even started me on a new immunosuppressant. It's important to find the right one and for me to be on it for at least six months before returning to PNG. We don't have a repeat of the last year where we returned too quickly after starting a medicine, assuming that it would work, and then having my pancreas <strike>explode</strike> <i>(ok so it didn't explode, but since no one really knows what it did or what it's doing, I might as well say it exploded)</i>. I have already tried two different drugs that did not work, so I'm very anxious to at least get started on SOMETHING very soon to make sure everything is in order for us to go back in January <i>(there's also the issue of the chronic pain in my joints that I have endured since coming off the medicine in October- it would be nice if that would stop as well-so yeah, finding a good immunosuppressant is important)</i>.<br />
<br />
I'm at the point where I'm just begging God every day for relief. Relief from the pain, relief from the financial strain, relief from poking, prodding, drinking disgusting fluids, and hours and hours in doctors offices and hospital waiting rooms, relief from the limbo our lives are in waiting for answers that elude us.<br />
<br />
I came across another woman begging Jesus for an answer earlier this week in my Bible reading. A Gentile woman who socially and culturally should not have even been speaking to Jesus at all. When she first addressed Him, He was silent, not even acknowledging her question <i>(I feel this Gentile Lady! Let's fist bump when I get to Heaven). </i>Then when He does talk to her, he basically calls her a dog. A lot of people get hung up on Jesus' initial treatment of this woman. Most commentaries defend Jesus' actions by saying the word "dog" actually meant like a pet puppy, which is kinda better...I guess, and I think in the past I've probably gotten hung up at this as well, but this week I focused on the end of the story instead of the beginning. I focused and the woman's response to Jesus, and it was point-of-view shattering.<br />
<br />
Instead of getting all offended, she just basically says, ok, well if I'm a cute little puppy then I at least get some crumbs, Jesus, and that's all I need. She knows that what Jesus has is so incredible, so powerful that all it takes is a few crumbs and her needs will be met. Her daughter will be healed of the demon who was tormenting her. She's willing to lick those crumbs up off the floor like a dog, because she knows they are worth it if they come from His hands. That crumbs turn into a feast when offered by God.<br />
<br />
Then I focused on His final response to her.<br />
<span class="reftext"></span><i><span class="red">“Dear woman,”</span> Jesus said to her, <span class="red">“your faith is great. Your request is granted.”</span> And her daughter was instantly healed.</i><br />
<br />
She goes from little pet puppy to Dear Woman with Great Faith. And all because she is willing to lick up some crumbs??? It seems kind of extreme until you read Luke 14 and the parable of the Great Feast. Jesus is sitting at a table full of pharisees and important Jewish people and tells them that He has prepared an incredible banquet for them and they've all rejected the invitation. In the parable they're rejecting a spectacular meal because they all had better things to do. They don't want the feast that He's offering them even though they are technically "His people" the "children" that he tells the Gentile woman that he has come to feed.<br />
<br />
But the Gentile woman is willing to crawl under the table and lick the floor like a dog to be fed by Jesus when His children won't even come at sit at the table and enjoy the bountiful meal He laid before them.<br />
<br />
I'm now wondering who I am in these two stories? I certainly feel like a little puppy begging and begging at Jesus' feet. But am I rejecting what He is currently offering me because I want something different? I don't really like this feast of trial and suffering and bad health. It's like He's given me a feast of bitter greens and plain fish. Sure they have great health benefits, but are very hard to swallow. Am I pushing this plate aside and begging for something sweet instead? I want dessert. Nothing to hard. Nothing too healthy. Sure the dessert won't grow or strengthen my faith or my character, but it sure does taste good.<br />
<br />
And isn't that the reason the Jews rejected Jesus in the first place? They didn't like what He had to offer? They wanted an earthly King and not a Heavenly one. They wanted their physical problems taken care of not their spiritual ones. They wanted Him to come proclaiming the Kingdom of Israel, but He came proclaiming the Kingdom of God instead. They didn't want what He placed on the table either, so they rejected Him and He made room at the table for those who were willing to accept it and be grateful for it. <br />
<br />
I decided that I want to be a part of the feast no matter what He places on the table, because I know that He is good and whatever He offers is good for me, no matter how hard it is to swallow. I know that even if I get one crumb from His hand, it is better than an entire feast at any other table.<br />
<br />
So tomorrow, no matter what the doctor says or doesn't say, I will be grateful. I will thank Jesus for what He is doing in my life. Growing me and strengthening my faith in Him through these times that require so much trust that He knows what He's doing. Trust that He loves me and isn't rejecting me. Trust that those sweet times will come, because He has promised they will. Trust He can take my time spent as a little begging puppy and turn me into a Dear Woman of Great Faith.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLLLim1VuJoB-9isWPNRhPZA9UVISqyUIXLrPIkNhjaIGJe-QnFoa5Xyv7e4oS8XqNp9IZCjlR9Xbs_gaoMtR3k93Y1YMfkBQXHZiU9HgXjBGMRq94f4td0z0EydTEHHW0koLbSo2mGc/s1600/IMG_2236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLLLim1VuJoB-9isWPNRhPZA9UVISqyUIXLrPIkNhjaIGJe-QnFoa5Xyv7e4oS8XqNp9IZCjlR9Xbs_gaoMtR3k93Y1YMfkBQXHZiU9HgXjBGMRq94f4td0z0EydTEHHW0koLbSo2mGc/s400/IMG_2236.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Basically me looking at God for the last year. (But really our dog Max)</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-56478137743964219692018-03-02T08:53:00.000-08:002018-03-02T09:03:11.590-08:00They Still Had to Fight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNEjsm23e9HFOKRkLXi6r9JTY3YPVOW21bW6M8ny5XAUXhD9Kfiop0qQ97zcNbpZa3g3PPclUI72DO_7Ia5NFKoVljhs3seys303LA6GSROGm-UaAmuhwJ3QDBQqnog5Z7e1hEyFKzYo/s1600/IMG_2493.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNEjsm23e9HFOKRkLXi6r9JTY3YPVOW21bW6M8ny5XAUXhD9Kfiop0qQ97zcNbpZa3g3PPclUI72DO_7Ia5NFKoVljhs3seys303LA6GSROGm-UaAmuhwJ3QDBQqnog5Z7e1hEyFKzYo/s320/IMG_2493.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I have been hesitant to write this post, because it seems like every time I write something about our plans, or why we are doing what we're doing, everything immediately changes and then I am writing a completely different post explaining those changes. But, the truths I am discussing here don't change even if our plans do, so I decided not to be animistic in my thinking that saying these words will bring about some sort of doom and gloom and forge ahead.<br />
<br />
Many people have asked us why we are still pursuing our life and ministry in PNG. Other people have suggested that our trials with the tribal fighting, and my health and all the times we have had to leave our village unexpectedly are pointing to the fact that God no longer wants us in there. I would be lying if I said those thoughts never crossed my mind, but so far I don't believe them to be true.<br />
<br />
I know God legitimately takes people out of certain ministries and works everyday for reasons that seem much less serious than ours, and I am not naive enough to believe that He would never do that with us.<br />
<br />
However...<br />
<br />
When I read His word lately what jumps out at me most is the people He has called to any certain task must FIGHT in order to achieve that calling. Sure, God does the miraculous on their behalf. He does things that man cannot, but He doesn't leave them on the sidelines eating popcorn and enjoying the show. They are in the middle of everything- usually with a sword in their hands.<br />
<br />
Joshua and the Israelites saw God bring down the Wall of Jericho, but then they had to enter into a fight to take the city. Each city in the Promised Land after that God delivered to the Israelites still included a fight. God gave it to them, allowed them to win those battles, but they still had to engage in the battle in the first place.<br />
<br />
When God delivered the Jews from Haman's evil scheme through Queen Esther, the Jews still had to spend the entire day fighting for their lives. God saved them from utter annihilation, but they still had to pick up their swords and defend themselves all day from the enemies who wanted to destroy them.<br />
<br />
And then I came to the story of King David. As a young boy God anointed him as the next King of Israel. <strike>And then He lifted him out of the fields of sheep and plopped him directly on the throne where he lived Happily Ever After. </strike>No, that's not right... Biblical scholars believe that there was approximately fifteen years between the time David was anointed by the prophet Samuel and the time he was crowned king. FIFTEEN years. And those years were not filled with him just ushering around a bunch of sheep at his dad's house. They were filled with running, hiding, and fighting for his life. Plenty of reasons to just say, "Maybe that old guy was just crazy, and I'm not really called to be King. Maybe it wasn't really what God wanted. It would be easier than this if it was His Will. I'll just go back to the sheep. The sheep aren't trying to stab me with spears."<br />
<br />
And when we get to the New Testament we see the "missionary" Paul struggling and fighting many obstacles and persecutions in order to spread the Good News. He even says in Acts 20 that the Holy Spirit warns him that there will be prison and hardships in every city he sets out for. EVERY CITY. He goes to these places knowing that there will be a fight. In 1 Thessalonians he mentions Satan blocking his way back to the church there, and how he kept pressing on and trying to find a way back to them, eventually sending Timothy in his place. The only time he gives up on an idea of place that he should go to preach is when the Holy Spirit prevents him from doing so. This is the only time he doesn't fight. (Acts 16) And then notice it doesn't say that it was some difficulty that prevented it. The Holy Spirit has already warned him about difficulty. It wasn't hardship, or beatings, or persecutions, or sickness or a pancreas that prevented him from going. Only the Holy Spirit.<br />
<br />
Right now, we do not believe that the Holy Spirit is blocking us from going back to PNG. That may change in a month, a week, or even an hour. But right now, in this moment, and all the moments before, we have been confident that the Lord hasn't changed our direction.<br />
<br />
So we keep fighting. Even though our hearts are tired and just need like 5 minutes. Even though it would be so much easier to just let it all go, and live in America where I can go to the doctor every time I stub my toe and where there are specific doctors designated for every part of the body. Yes, that would be easier. And honestly, that would be better for me physically. But it was also better for Paul physically to NOT be beaten every time he stepped across the border into a new city.<br />
<br />
But as Paul said in the very next verse following the warning of the Holy Spirit,<br />
<br />
<i>"However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to
finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the
task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace."Acts 20:24</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And our aim is the same as Paul's. To finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given us- the task of testifying to the good news of God's grace- and specifically to the Hewa people. But the truth is that even if the calling specifically to the Hewa people changes tomorrow, the task of testifying to the good news of His grace will never change. That is a task that we will not complete until we enter into His Presence. Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-48262975844502701352018-01-06T17:13:00.000-08:002018-01-06T20:43:36.982-08:00Pancreas 2, George Family 0My pancreas took us out of the tribe and is now taking us out of Papua New Guinea. After three months with little to no change in my pancreatic enzyme levels, my doctor here and my rheumatologist in America said it was time to come back to the US to figure out what is going on and how to treat it.<br />
<br />
Based on the tests I had in Australia in May, it looked like autoimmune pancreatitis, which makes since because of my autoimmune diseases.However, I was already on immunosuppresssants, so it shouldn't have happened in the first place. So, we are going to do more tests, and hopefully find a new medicine that works for my joint pain and my pancreatitis. We leave the country tomorrow to start our journey back to America.<br />
<br />
My doctor suggested we stay in the US for a year to make sure that whatever treatment I am on will work long term, before we come back to PNG where we have no access to advanced medical care.<br />
<br />
We are frustrated and confused about this turn of events in our lives and ministry, but are trying really hard to focus on the Lord and trust Him in all things.<br />
<br />
Though, I can't help but continually ask "Why?"<br />
<br />
My husband was just beginning to teach elder and deacon lessons to the Hewa believers - a major step in them developing a strong, healthy, and independent church.<br />
<br />
We've had so many interruptions over the last two years that have kept us going in and out of the tribe, and made our family life full of upheaval and instability. For the last two years the longest we have been in one place is four months. FOUR MONTHS!! And that four months was March to July of 2016. We did have a 3 month stretch in the tribe in 2017 (May through August), and that is longest we'd been in one place for the last year.<br />
<br />
I've been begging God for stability for our family and a long stretch in one place (particularly our house in the village), but He decided to answer that prayer in America instead.<br />
<br />
My mind drifts to the many possible answers to the "Why?" Could it just be spiritual warfare? Satan trying to stop God's message from spreading through a territory that he has had claim over for centuries?<br />
<br />
More frequently, though, I continually wonder, "Is it my fault?" (classic child of divorce)<br />
I read the parable of the talents and wonder if I'm the unfaithful servant? I think of all the ways I have failed in our ministry life and think maybe I've just wasted everything God gave to me and now it is being taken away.<br />
<br />
And I also wonder if it is just the consequences of the sinful world we live in and that sickness, death, and chaos are part of that and something we will have to persevere through until Jesus comes back. And it doesn't really have anything to do with me or my actions, specifically, except for how I respond- either in faith or frustration. Either dying to self or wallowing self-pity.<br />
<br />
The truth is, it could be any of these, or a million other reasons, and all of the responses are the same. God's response to me is the same. He is faithful, He will not abandon me, even if everything is all my fault. He will work to restore my life and relationship to Him always. And He will fight for me, my family, and the Hewa people whom He loves no matter what the cause of all the frustration. And my response should be the same...repent of my areas of sin and unfaithfulness and trust Him with whatever He wants to do in my life, my family's lives, and the lives of the Hewa believers. And persevere through all circumstances.<br />
<br />
When we left the tribe, my friend Emiyas came to say goodbye, and I told her I was really sorry we were leaving them and did not want to go. I told her I was scared that we wouldn't be able to come back, but we were going to try our hardest to at least stay in PNG, so John Michael could come in and out of the tribe to teach. She told me, "Jessi, stop thinking on this. Think only on God. Only He knows what will happen. Will you stay here? Will you go to America? Will you live? Will you die? Only God knows these things. So think only on Him and nothing else."<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTU3AOC2LVIEymXh6zbbdRXFDQPm3e1PzDATbT5JzctOOm-DeXRH9I-LDLHiYYoOHbW-u_LhROkdtMXR9ou8q71oCQ1yFnVO9ptEnhCNrxSjTnaD05hMe-HRhuH0hnYKMcN49wQDKTyxs/s1600/22552674_10103303328929406_5602270611236623566_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTU3AOC2LVIEymXh6zbbdRXFDQPm3e1PzDATbT5JzctOOm-DeXRH9I-LDLHiYYoOHbW-u_LhROkdtMXR9ou8q71oCQ1yFnVO9ptEnhCNrxSjTnaD05hMe-HRhuH0hnYKMcN49wQDKTyxs/s400/22552674_10103303328929406_5602270611236623566_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emiyas saying goodbye to and encouraging me the night before we left the tribe. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Such a challenge in all this. I have one billion things that my brain wants to think about during this huge transition. But I will try to heed my sister's very solid advice and think only on Him.<br />
<br />
<div class="poet2">
<span class="reftext"></span><i>"I lie awake thinking of you, meditating on you through the night.</i><i> Because you are my helper, I sing for joy in the shadow of your wings.</i><i> I cling to you; your strong right hand holds me securely." Psalm 63:6</i></div>
<div class="poet2">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="poet2">
<i><span class="text Ps-77-10" id="en-NLT-15080">"And I said, “This is my fate: </span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"></span><span class="text Ps-77-10">the Most High has turned his hand against me.”</span></span><span class="text Ps-77-11" id="en-NLT-15081"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>But then I recall all you have done, O <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>;</span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-77-11">I remember your wonderful deeds of long ago.</span></span><span class="text Ps-77-12" id="en-NLT-15082"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>They are constantly in my thoughts. </span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"></span><span class="text Ps-77-12">I cannot stop thinking about your mighty works." Psalm 77:10-12</span></span></i></div>
<br />
<i><span class="text Ps-119-147" id="en-NLT-16022">"I rise early, before the sun is up: </span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"></span><span class="text Ps-119-147">I cry out for help and put my hope in your words.</span></span><span class="text Ps-119-148" id="en-NLT-16023"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>I stay awake through the night,</span></i><span class="indent-1"><i><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span></i><span class="text Ps-119-148"><i>thinking about your promise." Psalm 119:147-148</i></span></span>Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-48671026768286774082017-10-22T02:57:00.000-07:002017-10-22T02:57:53.954-07:00My Pancreas has a Name<style>
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We are back out in town (<i>again</i>) thanks to my pancreas
(<i>again</i>).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQNFkbHzXMYI_is3Ek1ruJHdRwOo1TJYvelxxTXhsvg5T4KnU3jSY0AIHSTTeuFcgNw-KgmIEWIQdyWjKNPLaaOLS_-0apmpXfBWjMn8GqVUnNAS8EpYvOZz6pYugdX7vwVd-ggmNXm5E/s1600/22552531_10155137593757252_7978262733771918703_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="630" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQNFkbHzXMYI_is3Ek1ruJHdRwOo1TJYvelxxTXhsvg5T4KnU3jSY0AIHSTTeuFcgNw-KgmIEWIQdyWjKNPLaaOLS_-0apmpXfBWjMn8GqVUnNAS8EpYvOZz6pYugdX7vwVd-ggmNXm5E/s400/22552531_10155137593757252_7978262733771918703_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my last post I mentioned that it was just gently waving
at me so I wouldn’t forget it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
the last month it has decided to gently punch me, so I will give it lots of
attention. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have decided that my pancreas has developed Narcissistic
Personality Disorder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I guess in “reality” it has developed autoimmune
pancreatitis, but no matter what you call it, it's continually disrupting my
entire life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can only eat small
portions of bland foods, and we have had to come out of the tribe so that I can
be monitored more closely by our mission doctors. At this point we have no idea
when/if we will be able to go back to the tribe full-time. John Michael will
still make trips in and out to continue with discipleship and teaching the Hewa
church, but we know that as family we will be at the mission center for an
indefinite period of time. And worst- case scenario, if I do not improve in the
next month or so then we will have to go back to America so I can been seen by
a rheumatologist and gastroenterologist. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So… yeah… basically, my pancreas is taking over all our
lives and making our world revolve around it. I would say that is pretty
narcissistic. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rather than thinking about how our lives might totally
change forever and dealing with my emotions in a healthy manner, I decided to
do what I always do and deflect with humor and sarcasm. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The treatments for autoimmune pancreatitis have not helped,
so maybe if I just give in to my pancreas’s need for attention we will see some
results. Like maybe I will give it it’s own facebook, twitter, instagram, and
any other social media pages that I am not cool enough to know about right now.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no doubt that its pages
will be filled with duck-faced selfies with all my other organs being cropped
out of every picture. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A couple of people suggested that I give it a name, which I thought
was a great idea. At first I decided that because it was being
pretentious and annoying, it needed a hipster name, but the more I thought
about it, the more I realized that my pancreas actually has a celebrity
doppelganger and must be named after her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You see in both the MRI I had done in Australia in May and
in the ultrasound I had last week, the “tail” of my pancreas was the area that
contained the inflammation and therefore enlarged. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
In the strictest of medical terms, my pancreas has a fat
tail. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So with the fat tail, the constant need for attention, and
being totally high-maintenance, I have decided that my pancreas shall be named
Kim Kardashian. They are basically twins, so this is really the most
appropriate option. If I had any of the images from either the MRI or ultrasound I
would put up comparison pictures, but I don’t so you will just have to take my
word for it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For now, here is a picture of the human Kim Kardashian*. Now
just picture her tiny and living underneath my liver and you will know exactly
what pancreas Kim Kardashian looks like in my body. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiupdhtBkCDUgDGgFnhYRK0zpmI3qtHkBE1PJAGLGDJQC2XgTK8ZyB1B8eU7wQGKC1hop5zrU93aEVQaSsaFrmeLrBXNvjZucoGnAHN2gvJNr_K9Be4CXHRChSjIIWdbT7fCi4a3kg_PnQ/s1600/8603e35bd125ff0bb979c23e0cad49af.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiupdhtBkCDUgDGgFnhYRK0zpmI3qtHkBE1PJAGLGDJQC2XgTK8ZyB1B8eU7wQGKC1hop5zrU93aEVQaSsaFrmeLrBXNvjZucoGnAHN2gvJNr_K9Be4CXHRChSjIIWdbT7fCi4a3kg_PnQ/s400/8603e35bd125ff0bb979c23e0cad49af.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>If my pancreas was on social media, I'm pretty sure this is all you'd see.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
* It was actually quite difficult to find a picture to add
here. The human Kim Kardashian has blessed the internet with many MANY
duck-faced selfies, so quantity was not the problem, but finding one where she
is wearing adequate clothing was kind of like searching for the lost city of
Atlantis. Like most treasure hunters, I had to decide if I wanted to invest so
much time in something that probably doesn’t even exist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, alas, I prevailed. So take heart
all those who hunt for the treasures of myth and legend! If human Kim
Kardashian can be found in clothes on the internet, then anything is possible!<br />
</div>
Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-56056435674951102022017-09-05T16:18:00.000-07:002017-09-05T16:19:49.166-07:00Three MonthsAfter our whirlwind trip to Australia to find out that I had autoimmune pancreatitis, we returned to Hewa with cautious optimism. I have to admit that we were reluctant to post or write about any plans because it seemed like as soon as we did those things our plans would change dramatically.<br />
<br />
But we went back into the tribe...and <i>actually</i> stayed there for three months like we planned and then recently came out again for me to have my routine blood work. All those labs came back fine, except my pancreas is still acting a little funny. Not enough to cause alarm or another trip out of the country, but it's just like my pancreas got tired of being ignored my whole life and just can't let go of what little attention we gave it last Spring.<br />
<br />
It's just waving its little hand to say, "Hi, I'm still here. Don't forget about me."<br />
<br />
Over the last three months my husband made some videos of our time in the tribe, and I thought I would post them here (because who reads blogs anymore??)<br />
<br />
Here are the links for you to enjoy!<br />
<br />
My husband teaching 1 Thessalonians:<br />
<br />
<a class="x_gmail-m_4122171078061321728m_643684976144252390OWAAutoLink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NP6-PNHgaQ8" id="x_gmail-m_4122171078061321728m_643684976144252390LPlnk390858" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?<wbr></wbr>v=NP6-PNHgaQ8</a>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A walk to "church":</div>
<div>
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<a class="x_gmail-m_4122171078061321728m_643684976144252390OWAAutoLink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-OVJoEUSgGU" id="x_gmail-m_4122171078061321728m_643684976144252390LPlnk268692" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.co<wbr></wbr>m/watch?v=-OVJoEUSgGU</a></div>
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Checking on a sick child:</div>
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<a class="x_gmail-m_4122171078061321728m_643684976144252390OWAAutoLink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G92hj-Hl4To" id="x_gmail-m_4122171078061321728m_643684976144252390LPlnk512434" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?<wbr></wbr>v=G92hj-Hl4To</a></div>
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Random fun stuff:</div>
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<a class="x_gmail-m_4122171078061321728m_643684976144252390OWAAutoLink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lCkmgX7QlAs" id="x_gmail-m_4122171078061321728m_643684976144252390LPlnk703995" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch<wbr></wbr>?v=lCkmgX7QlAs</a></div>
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<a class="x_gmail-m_4122171078061321728m_643684976144252390OWAAutoLink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XoAWaWkiFw" id="x_gmail-m_4122171078061321728m_643684976144252390LPlnk818147" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?<wbr></wbr>v=-XoAWaWkiFw</a></div>
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<a class="x_gmail-m_4122171078061321728m_643684976144252390OWAAutoLink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JBpkDQRGtJQ" id="x_gmail-m_4122171078061321728m_643684976144252390LPlnk845014" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?<wbr></wbr>v=JBpkDQRGtJQ</a></div>
Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-517504282568479022017-04-28T17:09:00.000-07:002017-05-01T18:28:34.141-07:00Comings and GoingsWe arrived back in PNG on February 25th. Four days later I got sick with a bad stomach bug. Four days later I got better.<br />
<br />
We flew to the coast to our mission center there and attended our annual missionary conference for eight days. We flew back to the mission center here in Goroka.<br />
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A week later I got another bad stomach bug. This one lasted for eight days before I went to the doctor for some antibiotics, assuming I had some sort of amoeba or infection.<br />
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I ended up spending two days on IV fluids because along with the infection, I had pancreatitis. The antibiotics worked and I felt better...just not ALL the way better.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34rfsc5kSbEIDakBBNUdL_PZD8hZ95B3yO3sXBN2Cei34n_Jj2EQFDe9r_L6jcI8-qp3Q9prfbJrN11ENSYxyJVkZ3D-JQAHMTsPWVmmlG1LXzHzGscDkC5WZTAtAfSC1OcmdkILCraw/s1600/17884510_10102864804296286_3119514713314208274_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34rfsc5kSbEIDakBBNUdL_PZD8hZ95B3yO3sXBN2Cei34n_Jj2EQFDe9r_L6jcI8-qp3Q9prfbJrN11ENSYxyJVkZ3D-JQAHMTsPWVmmlG1LXzHzGscDkC5WZTAtAfSC1OcmdkILCraw/s400/17884510_10102864804296286_3119514713314208274_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Our doctor was kind enough to let me go home with my IV. Notice it hanging from the curtain rod here. </i></td></tr>
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<br />
I went back to the clinic last Tuesday because I was still having stomach pain and it turns out that I am still having pancreatitis, and my pancreatic enzymes are increasing even though my stomach bug is gone. Our doctor here did every test he possibly could to figure out why this was happening, but nothing showed up.<br />
<br />
So after just two months in the country, we are leaving... again. We are packing up to spend at least two weeks in Cairns, Australia to get to the bottom of my grumpy pancreas. Our hope is that it is my gallbladder that is causing the pancreatitis, I can have it removed in Australia, and then come back quickly to PNG and head back into the tribe.<br />
<br />
Our worse case scenario is that they can't find a source for the pancreatitis and I have to come back to America until it resolves or we find a reason.<br />
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BIG SIGH.<br />
<br />
So yeah...we're tired, and frustrated, and broke from all the unexpected medical and travel expenses that are CONTINUALLY happening to our family. We are having a really hard time understanding why we keep getting derailed when all we want to do is JUST GO BACK TO THE JUNGLE AND FINISH OUR WORK.<br />
<br />
We are so close. We feel like if things would just BE NORMAL we could probably finish the Hewa work in three or four years. BUT WE ACTUALLY HAVE TO <b>BE</b> IN HEWA TO DO IT!!<br />
<br />
I will admit that I'm kinda giving God the side eye right now... "Not sure what you're doing here, Lord. I'm pretty sure you want the Hewa people to know your Word and be discipled into maturity, but you keep pulling the missionaries you sent in there out..." (ps- our coworkers are currently out of the tribe as well helping their daughter who was recently diagnosed with a life-long debilitating disease...see what I mean? Side Eye)<br />
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John Michael just flew into Hewa last week to tell the people that we would be moving back soon. They were so worried that our coworkers were never going to come back, and that we would never be able to come back because of my sickness, and he reassured them that I was getting better and we would see them in two weeks. Now, who knows? And their radio is broken, so we can't even tell them. My heart hurts just thinking about that.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>JM took this picture of my friend Ana and her baby Jon for me last time he was in Hewa. He was just a tiny infant when I last saw him. </i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Just some kids hanging out at my house playing with the blocks we keep on the porch for them. I really can't wait to just sit on those rocks and watch them play with my girls again. </i></td></tr>
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<br />
And then I just wonder WHY? Why, God, did you call us to this work, this life, if you knew we would have all these health problems? Surely someone more healthy and capable could accomplish this task in a more timely and more economical manner. But then I remember reading a biography on the the life of Lottie Moon, a single missionary woman to China in the late 1800s/early 1900s who was questioned by someone about why she thinks God sent her- a single woman- to a place that obviously needed men in ministry. Her answer was that maybe God called a man first, but he didn't go, so He called Lottie Moon and she said "yes".<br />
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So maybe that's it. Maybe God has called some really healthy people to the mission and they said no, so here we are. Fighting with our feeble bodies and depending on God to get us through one issue after another. And we'll just keep doing it until we can't anymore or until it's finished because we said, "Yes."<br />
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For now we will trust Him to get us through this, and praise Him that all our troubles have been ones with resolutions. We have many friends and co-workers dealing with so much worse right now, and their testimonies of trust and faith in our God encourage us to keep going... and to be thankful that we CAN keep going... and coming...and going...and coming...and going.<br />
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And we find comfort in the fact that-<br />
<br />
<i>" <span class="text Ps-121-8" id="en-NIV-16090">the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> will watch over your coming and going</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-121-8">both now and forevermore." Psalm 121:8</span></span></i>Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-56190689852775726132017-02-16T18:00:00.000-08:002017-02-16T18:00:44.262-08:00Walking Barefoot Down the MountainIt's Monday at about 9:30 am and I am sitting in the middle of a pile of clothes and shoes and curtains and medicines and toys and books (though not many books- thank you Kindle!) and many other random items that we are trying to take back with us to PNG. My 5th grader approaches me with a math question. Because like a masochistic lunatic, I am simultaneously trying to home school and pack. I gave a quick glance and "hint" and told her to try the problem again.<br />
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Five minutes later she comes back, still needing help. I sigh in annoyance and give a slightly longer glance and firmly convince her that she can do it herself if she just tries hard enough.<br />
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Five minutes later and I was wrong. This time I lost my "patience" <i>(yes, I know the above display was nothing resembling patience)</i> and fussed at her for needing help. Of course that's not what I said...what I said was some jumble of sharp words about "trying" and "not doing your work" when really I was just fussing because she needed help. And you know...that's <strike>kind of </strike>actually is my job as a home school teachermom. Sure... it's also my job to pack and make sure my children and windows aren't naked (go ahead and laugh, but if my windows don't have curtains, then people will actually see my children- <i>and anyone else in the house</i>- naked, so they are important...very important). Anyway...<br />
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Yeah, I needed to pack, but not on school time. The problem is there was/is a lot of things I needed to do and they weren't looking like they would fit in the eight day time frame we had left. So after that I finally realized I was being totally unfair to my child, apologized, and helped her with her math problem.<br />
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Then I locked myself in the bathroom and cried.<br />
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Then I felt better.<br />
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And then I decided that this would was the last day of school until we get back to PNG*! Hooray for home school and making my own schedule! I have been trying so hard this whole furlough to keep us on track school-wise and it hasn't been easy with all the traveling, moving, and doctor appointments. But on Monday I realized that just pushing through in order to "get done" was not really helping my kids and it would be better to just wait for a time when I can give them my <strike>undivided </strike>slightly less divided attention...even if that means we don't finish until the end of June.<br />
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Home school is one of my biggest areas of struggle. I constantly feel inadequate and overwhelmed. I am never confident that I am making the right decisions. I am never confident that they are getting an adequate education. I am never confident that I am not actually making my children dumber. I am <i>never</i> confident.<br />
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And this lack of confidence frequently sends me into a downward spiral of doubt.<br />
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"What am I doing here?"<br />
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"Why am I a missionary?"<br />
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"I am terrible at all the basic requirements of this job."<br />
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"God, why do you have me here?"<br />
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"Isn't there someone WAY more qualified at all these things?"<br />
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"God, <i>do you</i> have me here? Or is this something I got myself and my family into?"<br />
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You see I had very different expectations of what I would look like as a missionary. I grew up reading Elisabeth Elliot and Amy Carmichael and I had grand delusions of being someone at least somewhat resembling those ladies.<br />
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Turns out I'm just kind of a housewife whose house happens to be in the middle of the jungle...and not a very good housewife at that. I'm not really a great cook. Or decorator. Or teacher. And I'm not great at plenty of the other aspects of my job either... I don't like packing. Or flying. Or transition. <br />
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I did kind of know all of those things going in, but I just had this idea that God would miraculously grant me those skills as soon as my feet made first contact with PNG soil.<br />
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I didn't really understand the concept of God using the weak and foolish in His work. I kinda thought, "yeah, I'm weak and foolish, but God is going to make me strong. Make me capable... equip me" with gifts and talents. I didn't realize that I was just going to be the same old me. Introverted and awkward and a mediocre cook and a terrible teacher.* But somehow God was going to make it work.<br />
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He takes all of my lack of talents and abilities and somehow makes everything work. People are fed and children are educated... and even more miraculously people come to know Him and grow in their relationships with Him.<br />
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He turns my mediocrity into the miraculous. All I have to do is just keep going. Keep doing what He asks even if it doesn't look as good as someone who is particularly gifted in that area. Sometimes He works through incredible talents and sometimes He works through the overwhelmingly mundane.<br />
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It reminds me of the time my husband went on a hike with some of the Hewa guys. On the way up the mountain <i>(you either go up or down on hikes around our village- flat ground is scarce) </i>he wore some nice hiking boots that not-so-nicely rubbed huge blisters on the backs of his ankles. There was no way he could get the boots back on his feet for the hike back down so he decided to go barefoot. This is not an easy task. Words like "perilous" and "atrocious" come to mind.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>John Michael's feet while walking down the mountain barefoot. He had just pulled a leech off of this blister. That's why it is so bloody. </i></td></tr>
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But he did it. Without falling. It's not something that white people can usually do. And man was he proud. The guys he was with congratulated him, "Now you're one of us!"<br />
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I was proud of and for him. And the next day I sat with some of the Hewa ladies telling them all about it. But their reaction was a little different than I expected. One particularly bold and saucy friend told me,"Yeah the ONLY reason he was able to do that was because we prayed for him. We saw that he was about to go down the trail with no shoes and we stopped and prayed that he would make it. God carried him down that mountain, and that is why he didn't die (<i>yes they fully expected him to <b>die </b>from walking barefoot down the mountain). "</i><br />
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And I realize that in everything we accomplish over there and for every day that we simply don't die it is only because God intervenes. He takes our feeble offerings and turns them into something useful. Something eternal.<br />
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So when I feel overwhelmed, inadequate, and completely useless in this ministry, I can be confident that as long as I am faithful in my mediocrity then He can turn it into something fruitful. I can walk barefoot down the mountain knowing that He will carry me.<br />
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*We decided not to do full school, but are still doing our reading everyday.<br />
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<br />Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-937298367242514022017-02-01T15:42:00.000-08:002017-02-02T12:09:01.466-08:00Nobody Reads The Bible More Than This Guy*I was just going through some pictures on my computer and found this one of these Hewa Bibles. Technically, they are "Scripture Portions" because we are not finished with the translation project, but it's just easier for us both if I call them Bibles. <br />
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When new books of the Bible are translated we print new "Bibles." They are just what we have translated so far. This is of course kinda pricey, but it's what we are here for and what we raise support for (THANK YOU!!!). We don't just pass out Bibles, though, or they would become trash all over the village, used to start fires, or fights, or basically treated as they have no value. It has to cost the owner a little something in order for it to be taken care of and treasured, so we charge them a very small fee for a first time Bible purchase and if they hand in an "old" Bible, one that is not the most up to date version that we have printed they pay an even smaller cost.<br />
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So I have this box of "old" Bibles sitting in the loft in my house. My co-worker said he just burns the old Bibles, but I have yet to get do it for a number of reasons. The number one reason being my long term relationship with procrastination, but also because I just kinda like looking at them up there. I mean, look at those things. All torn up and faded and obviously used. Obviously carried through thick jungle trails, over logs and rivers and up mountainsides. Obviously read. It's a great reminder when my attitude is less than stellar after a long day (<i>or week, or month</i>) of dealing with whatever village shenanigans have popped up.<br />
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And then there's this picture...<br />
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That's a guy* reading his Bible in the deep dark hours of the jungle night with only a flashlight to read by. It amazes me to see people fall in love with the Word of God, and therefore go to great lengths to read it, however and whenever they can. At this point they only have about 50% of the New Testament and yet, many of them spend more time reading their Bibles than most people who have the whole of scripture...in many different translations...including myself. I am often challenged and encouraged by my Hewa brothers and sisters to spend more time in the word of God. After all, I have lights in my house!! I don't have to worry about arm fatigue from holding a flashlight up for hours!<br />
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Anyway, these pictures were just a good reminder before we head back (in about three weeks), and a great encouragement for the days when I wonder if we're really doing anything for the people over there.<br />
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Because I know that even though we'll eventually leave for good, and the building we've built will eventually rot into the ground, <i>"The Word of God is living and active..." </i>and will keep going as long there are people still willing to do anything to read it.<br />
<i> </i><br />
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<i>*This title is just joke. I'm sure there are people who read the Bible more than this guy. Although he actually does read it a lot. </i><br />
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<br />Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-21304433765877895062017-01-16T14:02:00.001-08:002017-01-16T14:02:55.060-08:00Magic Words to Appease the Jesus SpiritOne of the hardest events of missionary work is the death of an unbeliever among the people you are trying to reach and disciple. This is particularly difficult when you are in the language learning phase and have yet to be able to share the Gospel with your people, but only becomes somewhat easier after the Gospel has been given to the people in their heart language.<br />
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I've been really contemplating a few things after witnessing death over and over in our tribe. We have seen death of believers and non- believers and those we are not too sure about. We had one of those deaths recently. One in the "not too sure category" and while I truly hope she is with Jesus, it has definitely made me think longer and harder about how we are communicating salvation to those in our village.<br />
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There are certainly some things about a tribal church that are much clearer and simpler than a Western Church, like when the church building needs a new roof. There are no meetings, committees, budget plans or heated discussions...<br />
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Just a group of people gathering the materials needed out of the jungle and assembling a new roof. The End.<br />
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Unfortunately, some things are all too familiar. We still deal with those who claim to be believers, who can quote our Chronological teachings from start to finish getting every word correct, but who show no fruit of the Holy Spirit in their daily lives. We have those who can give a clear testimony, saying all the words necessary for the missionary to say, "Well, they know the Gospel," but who stir up drama, dissension, and even lead others away from the truths of Jesus. <br />
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I think the better question to ask is not, "Do they know the Gospel message?" but "Do they know Jesus?"<br />
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After all, one of the major tools in the animist's tool belt is the use of "magic words." Knowing the right words to use when planting a garden or blessing a newly built house are all key to successfully manipulating the spirits around them to give them what they need to make life work. And the more those words are recited or repeated the more weight they carry and the more likely they are to give you the desire you want. Our co-workers ran into this with some of the new believers in our village who wanted to "practice" reciting the stories from the chronological Bible teaching to them everyday until they got them right. Because of their prior understanding and practices they thought this was the way to know and please Jesus. <br />
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We have to be very careful to teach them God's Word with the understanding that these Words are just an avenue that He left to make Himself known to man and make a way for man to know Him better and have relationship with Him. That relationship involves repentance of sin, the old way of living and thinking, and surrendering to <i>His</i> will even if that includes sickness, death, or persecution.<br />
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This is very hard for the animist, who is used to having a measure of perceived control over every detail of their lives. There is always some sort of action you can take to get what you want. Some magic word, or sacrifice, or payment. Even if things don't go your way, then you switch to "revenge" killings or payments, hoping that this will prevent the same thing happening again in the future. To completely surrender to the will of God- no matter what that is or how bad we perceive it to be- and have faith to believe that He is good through is very <i>very</i> hard for the animist whose ultimate goal is control.<br />
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But wait... isn't that very <i>very</i> hard for us all? And don't we deal with this same issue in churches all across America? People who can tell you all the stories of the Bible, people who have prayed the magic prayer that gets you into heaven (the sinner's prayer) and who live their lives with no intention of ever surrendering to the will of God?<br />
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The more I've learned about animism and the closer I've gotten to those who practice it, the more I see it in my own culture, sadly, even Christian culture...maybe even especially Christian culture. We are constantly looking for hidden secrets in scripture to make God give us what we want- maybe not specific material things, but an overall #blessed life. Remember the Prayer of Jabez? People went crazy over this small scripture referencing one man and his relationship with God and took it completely out of context, trying to use it get something from God. This happens over and over again. People read some obscure text and think it holds all the power to get God to do exactly as <i>we</i> want <i>Him</i> to do. As if He is only all powerful and sovereign because we haven't figured out exactly how to correctly form the words and phrases that will force all the goodness and blessings out of His hands and onto us.<br />
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And if that's not animism I don't know what is.<br />
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But it's not just Christians. It's humans. And in a secular humanist context we try our best to use science to not only explain everything around us, but to manipulate and control our world through it. We think that because we have "evolved" enough to not need God we are now in control of lives and universe- <i>if</i> we just get all the research and formulas right. Yet somehow in spite of all that research, and all the chemicals, machines, and incredible works of our own hands, humankind is still getting sick, still dying, still forced to face everyday knowing we actually have very little control of the world around. <br />
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All of these similarities show how much the core of man's sin nature has stayed the same since the very first sin was committed. After all, it was the the serpents words, <i>"</i><span class="text Gen-3-5" id="en-NIV-61"><i>For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God..." </i>that convinced Eve to take the fruit. She saw it was "pleasing to the eye" and that it was "desirable for gaining wisdom." </span><br />
<span class="text Gen-3-5" id="en-NIV-61"><br /></span>
<span class="text Gen-3-5" id="en-NIV-61">Deep down at the core of who we are. We want to be like God. We want control. We want the wisdom and knowledge of God so we can control every aspect of life that effect us... the elements, the animals, our neighbors, even our own bodies. We want to call ALL. THE. SHOTS...from the BBs to the cannons... which is why we seem to be on an unending quest to figure out a way to influence the One who actually does the shooting.</span><br />
<span class="text Gen-3-5" id="en-NIV-61"><br /></span>
<span class="text Gen-3-5" id="en-NIV-61">So the question we must ask ourselves as missionaries is do our people know <i>Jesus</i> or do they just know the stories we have translated and taught about Him? Are they trusting in the <i>person</i> of Jesus and His work on the cross or are they trusting in the magic words that we have so neatly typed, printed, and bound together as a book for them ? </span><br />
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<span class="text Gen-3-5" id="en-NIV-61">And the question all Christians must ask ourselves is "Do <i>we</i> know<i> Jesus</i>?" Do we have a relationship with Him that calls us to let go of our desire to control and manipulate the world around us and to trust in His will and work in our lives? Or have we believed the same lie as Eve, and just picked a few words off the tree of scripture that look beautiful hanging on our wall and sound just wise enough to get us what we want from God. </span><br />
<span class="text Gen-3-5" id="en-NIV-61"><br /></span>
<span class="text Gen-3-5" id="en-NIV-61">Are we doing just enough to appease the Jesus Spirit to get us into Heaven? Or have we completely surrendered our lives to His will and have an intimate, growing relationship with Him. The <i>person</i> of Jesus. </span><br />
<span class="text Gen-3-5" id="en-NIV-61"><i> </i></span>Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-44086168139467011272016-11-07T17:11:00.000-08:002016-11-07T17:11:47.197-08:00An Expat LifeAs tomorrow looms and everyone is wide-eyed with panic, I keep hearing (reading, actually) that all Christians should be reminded that our citizenship is actually in heaven (Philippians 3:20) and that we are aliens and strangers on this earth (1 Peter 2:11) and we should all find comfort in that.<br />
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I don't see a lot of people truly finding comfort in that truth. This pretty much happens every election season, but this one seems particularly dramatic and frightening, and no one really knows what to do about it.<br />
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I feel like one of the true treasures God has given me in the expat life is getting to experience what it really means to be an alien, a foreigner, an outsider experiencing the life of others from the inside. It is a truly unique and valuable experience on so many levels, but the greatest is being able to see the what the Bible is talking about in these passages. Because we are all really expats no matter where on earth we live.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>In the airport on our first move out of the country. The beginning of our expat life. </i></td></tr>
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Paul takes it even further and calls us "ambassadors" (2 Corinthians 5:20) spreading Christ's message of reconciliation. So we are not just expats for no reason. We aren't just hanging out in these foreign places because they are cool and we like the food. We are here for a purpose, to bring a message. For all intents and purposes we are missionaries. Foreign missionaries. Even if you are American living in America. <br />
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In my missionary expat life I have lived in two different countries. In my daily life in both places I tried to live as best I could within those countries, being respectful of their customs and traditions without compromising my values or belief systems. I lived under governments that I did not always agree with, but as a guest in the country, respected their authority. If I ever choose not to respect that authority then I would be kicked out of the country and would lose my opportunity to be heard by the people who wanted to listen. In both places our goal has been to seek out people...individuals and small groups to share the message of reconciliation with...the Gospel. We didn't go to the government to reach the people. We didn't try to change the laws of the land in order to change hearts.<br />
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So why is that what we try to do in America? Why do we try to legislate people into Heaven? Why do we think that God will judge us by our candidates and not by our hearts?<br />
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I think we've been listening to the wrong narrative for too long. The one that says that because America was "founded on God" we were blessed. We forget that our founding Fathers were sinful people who made a lot of mistakes. We forget that not everyone has had a "blessed" American experience. We forget that there have been many MANY wealthy, powerful nations that thrived under pagan rule and leadership. We forget that America is not our home. You and I are foreigners in this country. Hopefully, you and I are <i>foreign missionaries</i> in this or any country we live. And the best missionary strategy of all is through relationships, not through the government legislation.<br />
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This was the model of Jesus, himself. He spent time with just basic people. Not the government, not even the religious leaders. Even though that is exactly what they expected...exactly what they wanted from him. They wanted him to BE the government. They wanted Him to restore the nation of Israel so they could live in freedom and not under Roman occupation and oppression. They wanted him to legislate and rule here on earth. They wanted God's laws and precepts to be the ruling authority.<br />
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What's wrong with that, right? Isn't that what God would want? Isn't that what He wants now for America? It's hard to imagine that is His chief desire for America when it wasn't His chief desire for Israel...a nation He established. But why? Why wouldn't God want His Son to come to earth and set up His Kingdom here? <br />
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Because this is not His home...and it is not ours either if we belong to Him. He let Caesar have what is Caesar's. The earthly things, the temporal. Let those who belong to the earth have it. Let them worry about who will and won't rule and what kind of nations they will establish. This earth is contaminated by sin, so why would Jesus ever set up His Kingdom here?<br />
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I'm not saying don't vote. I'm not saying don't vote to best way you can as a Christian. I'm saying don't get so hung up on it. Don't think you that the way to spread the message of reconciliation is in the ballot box. Vote. Give to Caesar what is Caesar's. But then get on with your true calling, your true duty as a Christian. To love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. Creating a "Christian" government is not our job. If that is what Jesus wanted He would have done that himself. He would have done what everyone wanted him to do in the first place.<br />
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One of the greatest benefits of the expat life has been seeing how Christians in other nations function under their respective governments. I've lived in a place where abortion is not only legal, but sometimes legally forced upon women. Women who are Christians. They don't protest, petition the government because they can't. But they do support each other. They pray and fast and hide pregnant friends. Christian doctors induce labor early so that babies can be born to the mothers that want them.<br />
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I've also lived in a place where the government doesn't really take care of its people. They leave the poor, defenseless, and oppressed to fend for themselves. But the Christians feed those who are hungry, and offer safe haven to those who need it. The believers are ambassadors in their earthly countries. They are offer something that their governments cannot or will not. They offer the hope and refuge of their true Home.<br />
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There were times when I wanted to scream for all their "rights" being violated. I wanted to change things for them. Make their lives easier, more comfortable, more free to share the hope they had in Christ. But then I realized something. Those governments are not stopping the believers. They were not stopping the Gospel. And no matter who wins the election, ours will not either. <br />
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But I think we know that, don't we? Haven't we heard how Christianity thrives under persecution? We just don't <i>want</i> persecution and hardship. We want the comfort we've always had. Our motivation is not to further the Gospel...not to spread the message of reconciliation. Our motivation is fear. Fear that God will take away "our country" just as He did with Israel. We read the Old Testament stories and quiver at the thought of the same thing happening to America...to our new Jerusalem. God's new chosen nation. And in our fear we blame the sin of others, not the sin in our own hearts. The real problem is the sin of the baby killers and the homosexuals and if we don't stop their sin, then God will judge us and we'll suffer. We'll lose our freedom and prosperity, and that most alluring and deceptive of all idols- our comfort- and it will be all their fault.<br />
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So we try to take the easy way out and rant and rave at the politicians and try to mark a little box to save America rather than doing the hard work of investing in people's lives and showing them through our time, energy, and love that God has reconciled them to Himself through His Son Jesus.<br />
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We are just like the disciples in Acts chapter 1 who asked, "Lord are you going to restore the Kingdom to Israel now????" Still not understanding that the Real Kingdom is eternal and not earthly. Jesus died and was resurrected defeating death itself and reconciling us to God through His sacrifice. Yet, they still wanted Him to be the earthly King to deliver them in the here and now. To make their lives a little safer, easier, and more comfortable. <br />
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And 2,000 years later we're still doing the same thing. Exiting the ballot box, looking up to heaven, and asking the Lord to restore something to us that was never really ours to begin with. Asking him to shore up the walls of this sand castle forgetting that an Everlasting Kingdom awaits us.<br />
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Forgetting that we are just missionary expats. And no matter what happens in our "host country" when our deputation is over we will one day return to our perfect Home. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Doing it again. More kids, more bags, new country. </i></td></tr>
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<br />Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-1113144546806506752016-10-24T15:29:00.001-07:002016-10-24T17:49:47.194-07:00Update on Us<style>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">**I wrote this as an update letter in my most proper, and official voice. I quietly <i>thought</i> all my sarcasm and weirdness instead of typing out every single ridiculous thing that pops into my head. For you, though, I have added those thoughts in blue.**</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It
has now been three months since we unexpectedly left PNG to bring John
Michael’s mother home and to get some of our medical needs taken care of. <span style="color: blue;">(I have finally stopped getting the lump in my throat when I see the parents of friends and co-workers in PNG come and go without almost dying. Also, is it just me or was 2016 The Year of the Parental Visits in PNG? Seriously, there were a lot of parents. Guess how many had traumatic events? Yeah. Just one.)</span> It
has been quite a whirlwind of medical appointments, tests, and procedures, but
we definitely feel like we are headed in the right direction and will all be
well enough to go back to PNG in February 2017. <span style="color: blue;">(Probably. Maybe. Knock on Wood and any other animistic thing I can say that won't jinx us or our plans)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="color: blue;">(Aaron Jex, please skip the next paragraph)</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We
were met with some surprises and kinks in our plans after doctor’s visits.
After a routine check-up for me, my doctor founds lumps in both breasts that
sent me immediately to a mammogram and bilateral ultrasounds. <span style="color: blue;">(Why am I even telling you this? I don't really know. It's probably TMI, but at the time it kinda freaked me out, so I just put it in here for dramatic effect.)</span> Thankfully,
everything turned out benign, so other than just a really long day, no harm
done and I was able to move on with the medical issues that I actually came
home for! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Most of you know that I have had strange symptoms
for about a year now, including fatigue, low-grade fevers, joint pain, and
joint deformities in my hands. <span style="color: blue;">(I have a large protrusion on my right thumb. A fellow missionary said it looked like a bunion on my thumb, so obviously we started calling it a "thumbion". I have a thumbion, and some other fat knuckles.) </span>I saw a rheumatologist in September who said I
had an autoimmune disease, but at this point the tests are not helping us
identify which one. He did start me on some medicine that should help the pain
and progression of the disease, but I have unfortunately had some pretty
difficult side effects to the medicine. <span style="color: blue;">(The medicine drops my blood sugar even though I am eating all the time, so I am now hangry* all the time and fat. It is also giving me very vivid nightmares, which mostly involve planes and cliffs and terrorists. My thumbion doesn't really look that bad to me now.)</span> Right now, there are not really any
other options for medications for me, so we are praying through whether or
not to just not treat the disease at this time or try to find a way to take the
medicine and deal with the side-effects as they come. Please pray with us over
this decision, as it has been a little stressful to think about. Right now,
most of my symptoms are mild to moderate, and while they keep me from doing a
lot of “extra” things, my daily life and function are not really affected too
much. I can generally get all I need to do done in a day, just with a little
extra pain. The problem is that an autoimmune disease can progress if not
treated properly and I don’t know if my future health will be affected by the
decision not to treat at this time. <span style="color: blue;">(Basically, I would like to keep using my hands and other joints for as long as I possibly can.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">John
Michael has been having trouble with sinus infections and headaches for years
now, and last furlough was told that he needed sinus surgery to correct this
problem. Our busy schedules kept that from happening (he spoke in over 30
different churches last time), but he was really having a hard time with more frequent
infections and headaches when we returned to PNG. His sinus surgery became a
priority for us this trip, but when he went in to schedule it, the doctor found
a mass under his left eye that made him concerned, so he referred him to
another doctor for a second opinion. The second doctor looked over his scans
and said that the mass was just a cyst, and sent him back to have the original
doctor remove the cyst and complete the sinus surgery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the surgery the doctor
discovered a large bone spur on the underside of his nose, so he removed that
as well as what turned out to be a very large cyst in his sinus cavity (the
doctor said the size of a large grape) <span style="color: blue;">(The doctor actually said a large MUCUS filled cyst the size of a grape. EW)</span>. The doctors also advised him to have a
suspicious looking mole on his nose removed, so he met with a dermatologist who
said it looked fine, but he removed it anyway just to be safe.<span style="color: blue;"><span style="background-color: white;"> (He also had an allergic reaction to the antibiotic they put him on and he woke up the day we were supposed to leave for some speaking engagements with a bad rash in a bad place* but benedryl took care of most of, thankfully)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">In
the midst of all this, my mother discovered that she had to have two major
surgeries on her spine (one on her neck and one on her lower back). <span style="color: blue;">(Due to the autoimmune disease that I have apparently inherited from her. This is why we are worried about not treating it)</span> She is
single, and my only sister is also a single working mother, so my mom really
needed some extra help for these surgeries and their recovery. We are thankful
that the Lord allowed us to be here to help meet this need for my mom. The
surgeries have to be 6 weeks apart, so the last (and most difficult surgery)
will be at the end of December. This will delay our return to PNG by a couple
of weeks, but we feel that this is what we really need to do to minister to my
mom- without whom I probably would not even be a missionary, much less a
Christian <span style="color: blue;">(Seriously!)</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">This
will also give us more time to figure out what to do/how to treat my issues as
well. <span style="color: blue;">(Yes, I have "issues". That is no surprise to anyone. But really, I hope the extra time helps us find some medicine that does not make me feel worse than my actual disease does. Is that too much to ask???)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Thanks
so much to all of you who have loved and supported us during this time. They
have certainly been needed and felt. We continue to covet your prayers over the
rest of our time in the U.S. that things will go smoothly <span style="color: blue;">(which would be an actual miracle for us)</span> and we will be able
to return to PNG in early February. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As always, we couldn’t do any of this without you and are so
thankful that you are part of the Hewa team! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="color: blue;">*hangry= hungry + angry</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="color: blue;">*his butt. the rash was on his butt.</span> </span></div>
Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-74322384119280578162016-08-21T18:57:00.000-07:002016-08-21T18:57:56.147-07:00On This Rock<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJExK00VT2OQgHwH10ijP6Eoo1kjDe4Yxja_-pWdgWKYZItWHrh_u6f4BMvaBoLBWZ5tvgkiYxDTUKtV1FZXAAz6jyDzg0bc3n9QheZgRWRteODZeeXLiyWTaZebdNB_uXJhhdzVeYUxs/s1600/IMG_8364+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJExK00VT2OQgHwH10ijP6Eoo1kjDe4Yxja_-pWdgWKYZItWHrh_u6f4BMvaBoLBWZ5tvgkiYxDTUKtV1FZXAAz6jyDzg0bc3n9QheZgRWRteODZeeXLiyWTaZebdNB_uXJhhdzVeYUxs/s400/IMG_8364+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I know what this picture looks like. Just a guy standing on a big rock. NBD.<br />
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But the guy on this rock is actually a HUGE deal. Colossal. Monumental. BIG. FAT. DEAL. <br />
<br />
This is Fawa. He is one of the believers in our village. He's a young married man with a beautiful baby girl who just started toddling around.<br />
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His father (now deceased) was an influential witch doctor. When Fawa was a young boy his father told him to never go near this rock, but if he absolutely had to, then he should walk around it slowly with his bow and arrow drawn because the evil spirits inside it will come out and try to eat him.<br />
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My husband was on a hike with Fawa and some other believers when Fawa stopped to show them the rock, and told them the strict instructions his father passed down to him . He grinned as he explained the story and then explained to them all how he now knows that was his father's teachings were wrong. That rock is just a rock. Created by God and called good. Ready to cry out their praise to Him if commanded, and there are no malevolent spirits coming out of it to attack him.<br />
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But then he did something that amazed everyone there<i> (and everyone who heard the story later)</i>. He said, "Hey, I'm going to go across the river and I'm going to stand on top of the rock. You take my picture so that everyone can see that I'm not afraid. I want everyone to know that I follow Jesus' trail and not the old way of thinking."<br />
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He then maneuvered through the rapid river, littered with sharp stones, climbed up on this big rock, and flashed that huge grin as his picture was taken.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqj027t0UARAcsPBms_2v6-JpEayvY5OwYNJzWig9HSHpZJMuFHlKuCGamuzv0TId3KD1CHiBi0vKpvj5rxzgJTMgoucu90OytMmsvVoEExhgGnjNftzJRToDRmHP0ETYQeqQ5rY6UakY/s1600/IMG_8358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqj027t0UARAcsPBms_2v6-JpEayvY5OwYNJzWig9HSHpZJMuFHlKuCGamuzv0TId3KD1CHiBi0vKpvj5rxzgJTMgoucu90OytMmsvVoEExhgGnjNftzJRToDRmHP0ETYQeqQ5rY6UakY/s400/IMG_8358.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Michael and Fawa in front of the rock</td></tr>
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I love this story. This testimony of God's truth piercing through generations of entrenched lies from the enemy. But I especially love what it means for Fawa's daughter- this little girl...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjtYXa0yDph4Or9-YDlglnxB9Z52JXTRIFBngvV_r-r5FBJUag6PSDSX7wYGE4cqv1yMw7fR_P9VupaXozy7jIk5gMS45gEfIwtp83a7man7jYG9nlfDrq-X6yGYrALNYCj9h3UJJlyk/s1600/IMG_8047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjtYXa0yDph4Or9-YDlglnxB9Z52JXTRIFBngvV_r-r5FBJUag6PSDSX7wYGE4cqv1yMw7fR_P9VupaXozy7jIk5gMS45gEfIwtp83a7man7jYG9nlfDrq-X6yGYrALNYCj9h3UJJlyk/s400/IMG_8047.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fawa's wife and baby daughter</td></tr>
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This little girl will have a Father who doesn't teach her to be afraid of rocks or waterfalls or birds or any other evil spirits living in the mundane objects in her world. She won't learn to make sacrifices of valuable pigs to spirits who won't help, and she won't learn the magic words that need to be spoken in order to make all aspects of her life favorable. And above all she won't learn that when she loses a loved one, the only way to answer the pain and grief in her heart is to call for the deaths of some other woman or child rumored to be possessed by an evil spirit.<br />
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She will grow up with the glow from a flashlight illuminating God's word as her father reads to his entire household. She will be taught to read and write so she can one day read that Word for herself. She will know that when someone gets sick or hurt she can call out to the God who hears and saves. And she will know that when she loses someone close to her they will either be with their Creator or they won't, but that death is the result of sin and the fall and innocent women and children are not responsible.<br />
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She may or may not follow Jesus herself. But she will have a choice. She will hear the Good News... something that her grandfather didn't get to hear... and hopefully, prayerfully, each generation that comes after her from this time forward will get to hear as well. Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-51205958173055533022016-08-20T15:20:00.000-07:002016-08-20T15:35:48.275-07:00Where in the World are the Georges?Several mornings over the past two weeks I wake up in a confused panic wondering, "WHERE AM I?" Until my eyes communicate with my brain and I remember. Oh, yeah. That's right. I'm in________.<br />
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At first that blank was filled with Brisbane, Australia. We were in the home of gracious sister in Christ who provided us with shelter in a time of desperate need. Now it is my in-laws' house in Mississippi. That's right. M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I. <br />
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A month ago, my husband and I were filled with anxious excitement. Our moms were coming to visit Hewa. It was the first time for both of them (or anyone in our families, friends, or from our "world" in America for that matter) to see and experience our life in Hewa. We were so excited to see them and for our kids to get to spend time with their grandmothers of course, but we were also very excited to have them witness our world. To see, smell, taste, hear, and touch life in our remote village. To have other people validate our experience and would reduce our feelings of isolation by two.<br />
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We decided to keep it a surprise from our kids because we had long experienced the disappointment of plans gone wrong and honestly it just seemed too good to be true. The thought of having both of our moms in Hewa with us seemed surreal and neither of us could really believe that it would actually happen.<br />
<br />
They arrived in country during some political unrest with talks of airlines strikes and protests. We were on pins and needles as their first flight was cancelled which made their window of getting into the tribe very small. After a lot of nail biting close calls, they made it into the tribe just a few hours after they were originally supposed to, and it was such an amazing blessing. I was never more glad about the decision to make it a surprise to our children than when I was hearing over the short-wave radio that their flight might not make it in, and they may be stuck in the city for 3 of the 10 short days with us. I could handle my own disappointment and heartache, but not my children's at that point.<br />
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But they made it, so we spent the next week in the tribe having lots of fun family time and showing them what life is like in a remote jungle village. They met all of our friends, attended a Hewa church service and got to eat their food out of a ground oven or "mumu" just like true Hewans. John Michael even got to take his mom on a hike to the waterfall behind our house. (My mom has some back problems that made hiking dangerous for her, so we decided it was better for her to stay around the village).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5FHc4h2cY51N9Ni3b5G3dcyOdxoC0hy6FTWhkNwL0tbBaVZ9N1WoO13CSE5scn5jDrLBiv_WoBmfgEhpJJn9c8s3A0VS7R1jHliXH1yeZm_S66aL94KxFzofBYrQa6NXdYeiOUOPnBXc/s1600/IMG_8797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5FHc4h2cY51N9Ni3b5G3dcyOdxoC0hy6FTWhkNwL0tbBaVZ9N1WoO13CSE5scn5jDrLBiv_WoBmfgEhpJJn9c8s3A0VS7R1jHliXH1yeZm_S66aL94KxFzofBYrQa6NXdYeiOUOPnBXc/s400/IMG_8797.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The moms in Hewa</i></td></tr>
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Their departing flight out of Papua New Guinea was on a Monday and because there were some scheduling conflicts with our aviation department, we all left the tribe and spent three days together on the missionary base in Goroka. It was during this three day time in town that we discovered that John Michael's mom had some infected cuts on her leg. We gave her some band-aids and a strong antibiotic cream to treat them and told her we needed to keep an eye on them as bacteria in PNG is stronger and more aggressive as it is fed by the constant heat and humidity of the tropical climate.<br />
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This particular week on the mission base, there was a visiting doctor offering her services to the missionaries there as both of our doctors were away in America at the time. She came and looked at my mother in law's legs one evening and said that she would start her on antibiotics the next day since they didn't look too bad, but could get bad if not treated properly.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_gyx_t7OBg-3l8_Ist-DEsGfYFHK-N0PfRE9AWTDxEVzJYfbdlShEPB8B63pvgmxWPVpq0eV3rBb3xF20sR2LgwDOp7Kj80kcr7oSQfgNdt9jqjOHlqLlXhD8E-O_sWh1hb0320lo5k/s1600/IMG_1371.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_gyx_t7OBg-3l8_Ist-DEsGfYFHK-N0PfRE9AWTDxEVzJYfbdlShEPB8B63pvgmxWPVpq0eV3rBb3xF20sR2LgwDOp7Kj80kcr7oSQfgNdt9jqjOHlqLlXhD8E-O_sWh1hb0320lo5k/s400/IMG_1371.jpg" width="337" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Me with "Dr. Shelley." We are so thankful that the Lord provided this visiting doctor to be here when our regular doctors were gone. He knew our needs long before we did.</i></td></tr>
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The next day was Sunday. Her legs still didn't really look that bad. They appeared to have small spots of cellulitis but not the huge widespread areas that we had experienced in the past. She was running a fever, though, and that sent off alarm bells in our heads, so JM took her directly to the medical clinic on base to get treated while the kids and I along with my mom went to church. The doctor decided to go ahead and treat her through an IV to get the medicine in her faster since she and my mom were supposed to be getting on a plane back to America the next day.<br />
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After several hours her condition deteriorated and we realized that she would not be well enough to fly. John Michael cancelled all her flights and planned on rescheduling them in a couple of days when she was feeling better.<br />
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A few hours after that her condition deteriorated more and we were told by the doctor that she had sepsis and was going into septic shock. The medical staff began the process of having her medically evacuated from PNG to Australia since medical treatment in the country was not adequate to take care of such a serious illness. At this point she was pretty stable, so we weren't really worried, but we knew that she would get the best care in Australia and were happy that she could get there.<br />
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I left the medical clinic to go pack bags for her and John Michael and to tell my mom what was happening. After this the timeline gets a little fuzzy for me, because after several hours of running around trying to get little things done that needed to be done with all of this, my mother-in-law was still there and getting worse by the hour. The medical clinic had been in communication with the airline that handles all of our organization's emergency medical evacuations and things were in motion for our pilots to fly her to Port Morseby, the capital of PNG, and meet the medevac plane to fly her the rest of the way to Australia. But at some point, they could no longer get the medevac company on the phone and no one knew why or what to do. This went on for hours. Hours of her conditioning deteriorating with no idea if we would be able to get her out of the country and to the help she needed. Hours that extended deep into the night, resulting in much of the missionary staff on base working, praying, pacing, and wondering with us.<br />
<br />
Finally, through the work of our administrative staff we got a plan in motion to take her to the capital city and admit her to the ICU there, and wait until the medevac plane could come and take her to Australia. It was 2 am. The pilots and aviation staff had been sleeping in shifts at the NTMA hangar waiting on the word that she could be evacuated. The flight out was risky, but we are so thankful for the aviation staff and their families who are willing to serve in this way and take these risks that end in saving lives. You can read this amazing testimony from the wife of the pilot who flew my mother in law out that night<a href="http://blogs.ntm.org/brent-haberchak/2016/08/07/a-245am-departure/" target="_blank"> here</a>.<br />
<br />
At 4:10 am, Monday morning, they arrived in Port Moresby and she was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit in a hospital there. Although she was in a bigger hospital, the care was still inadequate for her needs and she continued to deteriorate. At 9:00 am the medical emergency plane and staff arrived there and took over her care. They intubated and sedated her but had to wait to for an ICU bed to open up in a hospital in Australia. At 3:00 pm they heard from Mater Public Hospital in Brisbane, Australia. They had a bed open for her and a doctor reviewed her case, gave the emergency medical team orders to switch her antibiotic (one that we could not get in PNG, but the emergency medical staff had) and at 4:00 pm they took off for Brisbane. They landed around 7:00 pm and she was admitted to the hospital. John Michael was able to be with her the entire time and on both flights. The staff at the hospital arranged a meal and shower for him and let him stay the night in the ICU waiting room even though it was not usually their procedure to allow family members to stay the night.<br />
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At this point we had been up for 36 hours- John Michael with his mom- and me still in PNG with the girls. Even though I had lots of offers of help with the girls that day so I could nap, I couldn't sleep until I knew my husband and mother in law were in Australia where they needed to be.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEYqJNasnJiQ8rxcRgE9WNFuqYsBdwm_tGiaZN8hC9JdyVTVbO2GH4ss1lojuO6v377jCLkEKNrpMRFtE8uTz8BiQmAM7v1EJJVgYA9shGNChiGKixqZdRXMvhrJBkPgW5HvgUeOtxDs4/s1600/IMG_8848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEYqJNasnJiQ8rxcRgE9WNFuqYsBdwm_tGiaZN8hC9JdyVTVbO2GH4ss1lojuO6v377jCLkEKNrpMRFtE8uTz8BiQmAM7v1EJJVgYA9shGNChiGKixqZdRXMvhrJBkPgW5HvgUeOtxDs4/s400/IMG_8848.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>John Michael's mom being medically evacuated to Australia</i></td></tr>
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After many ups and downs, she began to improve. After a couple of days they transferred her out of the ICU and into a regular ward. A week later, she was released from the hospital and the girls and I joined John Michael in Australia as we waited for his mom to recover and become strong enough to fly home. We realized early on that she would not be able to fly by herself, so after a lot of praying, thinking, and weighing our options we realized that the best option for our family would be to all fly home with her. John Michael and I both had some medicals needs that needed to be treated in America anyway, and after what we just experienced, we just felt like our family needed time to process and breathe.<br />
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After two weeks in Australia, John Michael's mom was recovered enough to endure a long haul flight so we boarded a flight to America and arrived in Mississippi at 4 am on August 8th.<br />
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We are currently at his parent's house, but are looking for a place to rent for what we estimate to be about 6 months here in the States. We do plan on getting around to speak to our wonderful supporting churches and friends, but right now we are trying to just get some rest, schedule doctor appointments, and give our kids time to process the shock of this transition. (We had months to prepare them for our last furlough- this time they were just kind of thrown into it).<br />
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We are praising the Lord for sparing John Michael's mom's life and for so graciously providing for us throughout this whole experience through the Body of Christ. Honestly, in the darkest moments I felt nothing but desperate terror. I felt no faith, no hope, I was crying out to God not knowing if He was listening. But there was always someone there. Holding my hand, praying out loud, reading scripture, providing the hope and the faith that my soul needed to anchor it to Christ. This is why God wants us to live in relationship. We need each other. We need to be part of One Body because there are moments in this life, in this world of sin and suffering that we won't be able to make it on our own. When the eyes don't work blinded by fear and panic, so the voice speaks truth, and the hands stroke peace, and the arms encircle with comfort.<br />
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We experienced God's love through the Body of believers in PNG with our friends, and co-workers and even in Brisbane, Australia where we didn't know anyone. God sent strangers- yet brothers and sisters to help us during our time there. They gave us a place to stay, groceries, warm clothes (it is cold in Brisbane in August and we had come from the tropics), and even blessed our family with some fun outings.<br />
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The good news now, is that we are in America. Land of the internet, so we can hopefully communicate more frequently with all of you while we are here. Once again, thank you so much for what has to be thousands of hours of prayers you have lifted up on behalf of our family. As you can see (read) they are never ever in vain. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip5qLIdeLpNatFWo4rgLxgzSdE7ABBEfnzv6Atr87ETWJVnB_lwnKl-CeXSmNnB6exEyYqHoP5LHOr4RTPiuJkYuJqqKDSksQHnnXHtviNWxdFZBbyMjL6M7EKOVhZPPbo2Ip_MSDhMDA/s1600/IMG_8949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip5qLIdeLpNatFWo4rgLxgzSdE7ABBEfnzv6Atr87ETWJVnB_lwnKl-CeXSmNnB6exEyYqHoP5LHOr4RTPiuJkYuJqqKDSksQHnnXHtviNWxdFZBbyMjL6M7EKOVhZPPbo2Ip_MSDhMDA/s400/IMG_8949.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The church in Brisbane blessed our family with tickets to the Steve Irwin Zoo</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKhfRL5UFZvJtNGbAeNEaUj5YqMl-GD4HnkVh9N9S5QqwiKZPKDbOyo51i19xhqHLchCNeooCZe8I8I7j2yU8f35j1J5vbv7VLuCi1GcvUNB_UtPbtX6sEpH4qElkb0IIUbPVJNQsksHk/s1600/IMG_1419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKhfRL5UFZvJtNGbAeNEaUj5YqMl-GD4HnkVh9N9S5QqwiKZPKDbOyo51i19xhqHLchCNeooCZe8I8I7j2yU8f35j1J5vbv7VLuCi1GcvUNB_UtPbtX6sEpH4qElkb0IIUbPVJNQsksHk/s400/IMG_1419.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Kangaroos are not afraid of wheelchairs :)</i></td></tr>
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<br />Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-54992833971693374492016-06-23T22:47:00.000-07:002016-06-24T16:33:09.161-07:00A Marriage ProposalA little over 12 years ago I was completing my senior year of college, living in a small one-bedroom apartment off campus. It was an older house that had been divided into a duplex with a little screened in porch attached to the back. My boyfriend at the time decided that little porch needed to be cleaned up and painted to give me a nice place to sit and read or study. I already had a nice place to sit and read and study…an apartment…to myself. It was the first and only time I ever lived alone and after three and a half years of living in tiny dorm rooms with a roommate, to this introvert having an entire apartment (small or not) to myself was luxurious. But this cute guy wanted to "fix up" my porch, so I said, "Sure. It will be so nice to have that porch for a quiet place to study," and let him spend an entire Saturday working on it. <div><br></div><div>When the project was complete he called me out to see this nice new space he created for me (which I didn't really care about). I put my best, most appreciative looking smile on and went out to see the results of all his hard work. As he opened the door and let me pass in front of him to inspect the area, I saw "WILL YOU MARRY ME" pained in big red letters across the porch wall. When I turned around fully expecting him to be laughing at the big joke he just played on me, there he was on one knee holding a ring. </div><div><br></div><div>The rest of the story gets a little blurry from here because I was in such shock. I'm pretty sure my brain, if not my entire body (he says, no, my body stayed there in front of him in terrifying silence) floated into space for a few minutes. I'm convinced I saw Mars. It's red right?? But after he said, "I need an answer" I returned to this planet and to my new porch and said "Yes." </div><div><br></div><div>It was terribly romantic and a great proposal story that I love telling to this day. </div><div><br></div><div>Last week, we heard another proposal story that was…well…a different kind of romantic. </div><div><br></div><div>One of the young guys that John Michael frequently works with in developing lessons recently returned from another village where he, another young single guy, and another couple were starting an outreach. They completed the literacy program and were about to start teaching the chronological Bible lessons to the Yano people for the very first time when the all the murders happened and that got put on hold. </div><div><br></div><div>Then last week a man from that village came to tell us that there was going to be a court against our young friend for some inappropriate behavior with a young widow from that area. John Michael, Jonathan, and the church leaders met with him to hear his side of the story and this was his response…</div><div><br></div><div>"I didn't do what they say I did, but I did do something very wrong. I threw the peel of my betel nut at her and hit her with it. I did this without talking to her parents first, though. It was very wrong and I am very sorry for what I did."</div><div><br></div><div>The church leaders immediately responded with reprimands and advice about how he should respond to the accusations while the two missionaries sat looking confused and wondering if they heard his words correctly. After several minutes of conversation to clarify things, the two men discovered that what our young friend did was actually propose marriage to this girl…by throwing the peel of a nut at her and hitting her with it. How romantic. </div><div><br></div><div>Can you imagine ladies? The moment you feel small but sharp <i>ping </i>on your shoulder, you look around with reluctant hope…could it be? Could you possibly be the recipient of this romantic gesture? And with your heart pounding you see him there and you can't believe that you could ever be so lucky! It's the greatest, most romantic day of your life…. <b><i>the man of your dreams has just hit you with a piece of garbage!!! </i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>There you go, Disney, your next fairy tale romance to make millions off of. You're welcome. </div><div><br></div><div>***Also, any future visitors to Hewa. Please be careful as to how and where you dispose of your refuse. You may go home with more than you bargained for. ***</div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3182155880826173963.post-33156363608214913702016-05-29T21:52:00.000-07:002016-05-29T23:21:59.434-07:00Five YearsThis month marked five years since we first stepped off the plane into the sweltering heat of Papua New Guinea. Ten minutes after descending the stairs of the plane onto the cracked blacktop of the airstrip parking bay, I heard the haunting sound of wails coming from a large group of people waiting just outside the "terminal" ( just a fence that divides the pavement where the plane parks and where you exit the airport). The body of their loved one was being carried off of the plane along with our luggage. Those piercing sounds of sorrow were some of the very first sounds we heard in our new country. Welcome to PNG.
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<br>After a few short months we went to live with a group of remote tribal people for the first time as we learned the ins and outs of tribal missions from a veteran missionary couple. Just a few hours after we arrived into that village, the sound of the death wail, and beating of a drum to let all those in the village know that a death occurred, welcomed us to that new place as well. A 12- year old boy died shortly after our arrival, so our first experience in tribal ministry was that of the mourning and burial process. Nothing makes you feel more awkward and out-of-place than being dropped into the middle of a community's sorrow and angst with no idea of what to do or say. You don't even know anyone's name except for the dead boy's being cried out over and over again by his devastated mother. Welcome to the tribe.
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<br>Those two gut-wrenching welcomes definitely set the tone for how the rest of our first term would go- marked by so much death and tragedy. But there was also so much life and learning in that first term. Every event, both good and bad, shaped who we are as individual people and as a family. And though this term has been marked by murder and tribal war, we have been spared the tragedy of watching those close to us die. We have been on the edges of these events, these deaths. And surrounding those times of great loss have been times of great joy. Times of accomplishing huge tasks and celebrating significant milestones in our family and community.
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<br>God, in His faithfulness, has never left us alone and His presence is what brought us back after our first furlough and what sustains us each day as we continue to live and grow alongside the Hewa people.
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<br>I have certainly learned a lot along the way, and if you have been reading this blog for any length of time, you have read each of those lessons as I experienced them at the time. And I cannot even express how much it has meant to have you do that. Reading all your comments and hearing your prayers for us has helped us feel less alone, less isolated, and has encouraged us to keep going when we felt like we weren't really doing any good or accomplishing anything at all.
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<br>For five years you have hung in there with us. Loving and praying for us, and more significantly for a group of people hidden a remote corner of these mountains that you've never even met. On their behalf and on ours, I want to say a huge THANK YOU and I hope and pray you will hang out here with us for however long the Lord has us here. It would sure get lonely without you.Tribal Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11156701579715365809noreply@blogger.com2